


Until You Break, Until You Yield

by Anath_Tsurugi



Series: Worth Dying For [1]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Attempts at writing medical jargon, Canon-Typical Violence, Cunnilingus, Multi, Oral Sex, Original Female Characters - Freeform, Original Male Characters - Freeform, Project Freelancer, SPARTAN Maine, Slow Burn, Strangers to Lovers, Yorkalina, carwash siblings, mainewash - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-08
Updated: 2017-08-19
Packaged: 2018-04-19 16:59:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 47,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4754048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anath_Tsurugi/pseuds/Anath_Tsurugi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Agent Washington first joined Project Freelancer, there was a bet on the Mother of Invention on how long it would be before Agent Maine put him in the hospital. A look at the developing relationship of Wash and Maine over the course of Project Freelancer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Blue Amber

**Author's Note:**

> Well, now that we've got our amazingly awesome and yet so cruel end to Season 13, here's me attempting to write RvB fic. I'm gonna try something like what they did with the freelancer arc, in that I'm going to have two stories going at once. This and the other story, When Angels Fall (With Broken Wings), can be read separately, but your enjoyment will definitely be enhanced if you read them together. Whatsoever you choose to do, dear reader, I hope you enjoy.

_Blue amber is amber exhibiting a rare coloration. Under artificial light, the amber appears like ordinary amber, but under sunlight it has an intense fluorescent blue glow. When held against the sun it will appear like ordinary amber, and under ultraviolet light it will glow a bright milky-blue. This effect can be compared to the ocean, which, although transparent, can appear anything from light blue to dark blue to black, depending on depth, mass, salinity, etc._

XxX

 _Nope,_ Maine decided as he went crashing to the floor for the fourth time. _Getting out of bed this morning was definitely not worth it._

The training exercise of the day was two on two – he and York versus Virginia and Michigan. There'd been something in the objective about working as a team, but that was not Maine's strong suit. He worked alone and he got the job done alone. That was how he'd always done things.

So why were Gin and Mitch such a fucking problem?

Maine growled in frustration as he started to pick himself up – and immediately found himself laid out flat when Mitch threw York on top of him.

"Get off!" he snarled, shoving the shorter male off of him.

"Jesus Christ, Maine!" York snapped, remaining sitting on the training floor while Maine pulled himself to his feet. "How many times do you feel like getting tossed around like a goddamn ragdoll today? The point is to take them together."

"Don't you know, York?" Mitch called to him from the far side of the field, where she and Gin stood at the ready with their pugil sticks. "Maine doesn't need any help. Amigo probably thinks if he keeps running at us, he'll knock us down eventually. Isn't that right, princesa?" she called out to the much larger freelancer, snickering as she swung the pugil stick over her shoulders.

Oh, no. That little bitch was _not_ starting in on that whole 'princess' thing again. Snarling in anger, Maine ran at the gray-armored pair yet again. Unfortunately, they easily closed ranks and threw him back with another perfectly timed attack from their pugil sticks.

"What'd I tell you, big guy?" York snarked, now sitting cross-legged while impatiently tapping his stick against the floor. "You're not gonna get past 'em when they're working in sync like that. Wanna talk strategy maybe?"

Grunting in exasperation, Maine turned his focus back to their opponents, seeing that Gin had taken the opportunity to make a side attack on them, leaving Mitch wide open.

"Come at me, princesa!" she challenged, and for a moment his vision went red, only filtering down to the red accents on her armor when he started to charge her again.

"Maine, _stop!_ " he heard York shout, but he didn't heed. His focus was completely on Mitch – and that was his mistake. He didn't see Gin reverse his attack, just felt the sting of the other agent's weapon as it struck the back of his neck, sending him flying forward into Mitch's pugil stick, then straight to the floor at her feet.

"Fuck!" he ground out, opting not to stand up this time, because that was the match.

"Point to Team B," F.I.L.S.S. announced dispassionately over the loudspeaker. "The match goes to Team B. Thank you for your participation, agents."

"What the hell, man?" York demanded as he jogged over to them. "Did you miss the memo or something? It was a _team_ exercise."

"Does not play well with others," Mitch joked, offering Maine her hand to help him up, which he refused. He pulled himself to his feet, glaring at the other three all the while.

"Really, Mitch? You're still gonna mess with him outside the ring? Dunno if I like your odds now," Gin said as he swiped her pugil stick from her.

"Odds of what?" she asked as she removed her helmet, scratching languidly just behind her left ear. She'd just recently had her head shaved and only a little of her dark hair had grown back in.

"You know how this works. Training over, partnership dissolved. I feel no obligation to stop Maine coming after you for that princess crack. In fact, if he feels the need to kill you in your sleep tonight, I'm just gonna sit there and laugh."

"Ten seconds," Maine warned her. If she was still standing there when the countdown was finished, well, he really just couldn't be held responsible for what might happen to her.

"Ah," the woman started in understanding, green eyes shifting between Gin and Maine. "Well, I'm always up for a little hide and seek."

"Five seconds."

"Catch!" Mitch shouted, tossing her helmet in Maine's face before bolting off the training floor. He was about to throw the gray and red helmet down and take off after her when he found himself stopped by a hand on his arm.

"Not contesting she deserves what's coming to her, but I think you can afford to give her five minutes' head start. Don't you?" Gin cajoled.

Maine just grunted in response, rolling his eyes as he threw the discarded helmet at him, the red highlights contrasting with the sky blue highlights on Gin's armor.

"Seeing as how you're _not_ taking off like a bat outta hell, I'm gonna take that as agreement and say I owe you my desserts for a few nights."

Maine sighed, but found just a little more of his anger slipping away at the offer. Maybe he'd even let Mitch get off scot-free. After all, who was he to say no to a few extra puddings?

"And once again the savage beast is soothed with sugar," York said with a small chuckle, unknowingly stoking Maine's ire once again. He would at least have to dislocate something when he finally caught up to Mitch.

"Good show, bitches," South called out as she and North strode onto the training floor.

"What are you two doing down here?" York asked. "I thought Wyoming and Florida were supposed to go up against Connie and Kansas next. You guys aren't supposed to be on deck with Dee and Missy until later."

"The last two matches got called," North explained. "Looks like our new kid got shipped in a day early. Carolina's in with him now."

"Carolina?" York wondered aloud, tilting his head to the side in confusion. "Since when does she hold rookies' hands?"

"Since today, apparently," Gin said with a shrug.

"So who wants to go have a look at the new meat?" South asked, clearly grinning maliciously beneath her visor. She always got like this whenever new recruits were admitted to the project.

Maine didn't really care, though. He would see the new kid when he saw him. Instead of following York, Gin, and the Dakotas, he headed off in search of Mitch. Couldn't let her get too far ahead.

XxX

"Oh, my God. You still have that damn rubber duck?" Carolina ribbed as she watched her brother unload his gear into his locker.

"Hell yeah, I do," David sniped back. "It's my lucky charm. Hope you don't think I survived that last tour with nothing but my skills."

"Well, _somebody_ must think that. Otherwise you wouldn't be here," she pointed out.

"True enough, but…Kat, is it true I'm the youngest recruit so far?" he asked, not looking at her as he closed up the locker.

"That _is_ true," she granted, crossing her arms over her chest as she watched him pick up his helmet and tuck it under his arm. "Why do you ask?"

"I dunno. I just…I guess I can't help wondering if the only reason I'm here is- is because he-"

"Don't start in on that. You're here because you _earned_ this spot. You _deserve_ it. He doesn't play favorites, not with _this_ project. If there was someone better, he would've picked them," she said firmly. "All the same, I wouldn't go into mentioning he-"

"Yeah, no. Fuck no," David said, shaking his head. "That's trouble neither of us needs. But you don't care if the other agents know _we're_ related?"

"I won't make a big deal about it if it comes up. It won't be a secret. Wouldn't be any different than the twins. None of that 'Kat' stuff here, though. Here I'm Carolina, and you're Washington."

"Right. That's gonna take some getting used to," he said, beginning to twirl the helmet between his hands.

"You'll get there. We all did." She would've said more, except that was the moment Mitch came barreling through the locker room.

"'scuse me. Coming through," she huffed as she shot past.

"Hey, Mitch. This is Agent…Washington," Carolina started to introduce, voice trailing off in confusion when Mitch ducked behind a discard bin.

"Hello," Mitch called back, sticking a hand just above the bin and waving.

"Agent Michigan. Mostly we call her Mitch," Carolina explained to her brother before turning her focus to the bin. "What did you do to piss Maine off this time?"

"What makes you think it's Maine?" the bin asked.

"Because he's the only person on this ship you'd actually hide from, maybe?" Carolina suggested in a very thin voice.

"Point Carolina," Mitch responded, holding a single finger above the bin. "I may have made a few cracks during our team match. Gin and I sorta wiped the floor with them."

"Surprising no one," Carolina said with a sigh. "Still doesn't play well with others."

"That's what I said. And apparently he's going to kill me in my sleep for that. So if he comes sniffing around, I'm not here."

"Right, because there are _so_ many places to hide in here," Carolina said with a roll of her eyes.

"You lack imagination, Carolina," Mitch declared. "Maybe the new guy'll be a little more interesting."

"Actually, I-" David started, but was quickly interrupted by the door being violently shoved open. The newest freelancer was then greeted by the sight of the largest human being he'd ever seen.

It honestly wouldn't have shocked David if this bruiser of a soldier measured in somewhere around seven feet. Even beneath his white armor, it was obvious he was _very_ well muscled. He couldn't quite help his nervous gulp when the other man stomped into the room, growling – actually _growling_ , what the actual fuck? – as he pulled off his EVA helmet. Beneath the domed visor was a perfectly shaved head and an expression that was both angry and – eager? Maybe?

"She's here," he muttered, more to himself than to either of them.

"Knock yourself out," Carolina said with a shrug. "Just try not to break anything this time."

"Maine, I take it?" David whispered to his sister as the behemoth moved past them, beginning his search of the locker room.

"Mmhm. My advice – stay out of his way. Man has a bit of a temper."

"Right," David mumbled nervously as he watched the larger freelancer dig through the discard bins. After going through each one, he yanked them roughly away from the wall. When he finally came to the last one, he didn't bother to dig through it. He just yanked it away from the wall and shoved it against the far bank of lockers.

"Fuck, Maine!" Mitch hissed in pain as she climbed out from between the lockers and the bin. "If you're gonna kill me, could you at least do it to my face?"

Maine cracked his knuckles and his neck as he glared at her, as if to say, 'With pleasure.' But before he could advance on her, the new kid was suddenly standing between them.

"Or you can just ignore my warning and get yourself killed on the first day. That works, too," Carolina said, shaking her head.

"That…that's not fair," David insisted, not completely sure what had possessed him to throw himself in the giant's path. "You can't just kick her when she's down like that. You're not…you…" David's voice slowly trailed off as he looked Agent Maine in the eyes, unable to help noticing their amber color. It was almost like looking an eagle in the eyes. Really, it was the most intense gaze he'd ever been fixed with.

Maine's first thought was that he was going to eat this rookie for lunch. After all, nobody got in _his_ way and lived to tell about it. But when he fixed the kid with his best death glare, he found himself strangely hung up. There was something oddly…earnest in the new recruit's gaze. Normally a look like that made Maine want to punch something because it was just so _painfully_ naïve and it had no place in the military, but right now – now it had an almost _calming_ effect on him, and that was something he couldn't understand. What the fuck was _with_ those goddamn blue eyes?

"Hello? Anyone awake in there?" the burly freelancer vaguely became aware of Carolina's voice somewhere off to his left. Following the voice, he found the redhead standing off to the side, a quizzical eyebrow raised as she surveyed the two of them. Shaking himself out of whatever funk he'd fallen into, Maine glared at the other agent before turning his attention back to the rookie.

"Move," he grunted. He didn't want to hurt the kid, but he would if he had to.

The new agent shook his head, opening his mouth to say more when Mitch suddenly stepped in, shaking her head as she rested a hand on his shoulder.

"That was a ballsy move, gatito. Not many can get between Maine and his punching bag and live. I can't have a rookie dying for me, though. I gotta take what's comin' to me," she said, clapping him hard on the shoulder before shoving him aside. "Okay, Maine. Give me your best shot," she said, throwing her arms open, welcoming whatever he saw fit to dole out.

Maine surveyed his prey for a moment, actually feeling drained of the anger he'd built up during his search. Seriously, Blue Eyes, what the fuck? He really couldn't afford to make an exception, though. If word got out that he'd let Mitch off without so much as a punch being thrown, he was going to start losing his reputation.

"Any day now, hombre. I'm gonna get old down here," she warned him, and before she could say anything else she might regret, Maine delivered a harsh blow to her midsection, sending her stumbling back a few feet. Then he took a step back, crossing his arms and grunting in satisfaction.

"Seriously?" Mitch demanded once she'd stopped coughing. "That's it? No brawl? No trip to Recovery?"

"You're complaining?" Carolina asked her.

Thinking about it a moment more, Mitch grinned and shook her head. "Guess not. Thanks for that, gatito. You might just be my lucky charm," she said to David before heading out of the locker room.

"What was that…she was calling me?" David asked, eyes shifting between the door, Maine, and Carolina.

"No idea. She does that sometimes. You learn to go with it."

Grunting to get Carolina's attention, Maine directed his gaze toward the new kid, raising a questioning eyebrow.

"Oh, right. Maine, this is our newest recruit, Agent Washington, lately a captain of the UNSC Marine Corps," Carolina introduced.

"Hi," the kid said, reaching out a hand to shake Maine's. The older freelancer stared at him oddly for a moment before slowly accepting the hand. Seriously? This kid had been a UNSCMC captain? Maybe he wasn't as young as he looked?

"Oh, wow. Maine shakes now?" York's amazed voice suddenly butted into the conversation. Maine rolled his eyes before turning to glare at the new arrivals. The tiny gesture actually drew a small laugh from Agent Washington, which pulled Maine's gaze right back to him, blinking several times in confusion. Then he shook his head and grunted in disapproval.

'Don't do that.'

"S-sorry," Washington stuttered, schooling his features into a more serious expression, though he couldn't seem to help scratching the back of his head in embarrassment. Maine tilted his own head to the side in curiosity, uncertain whether the rookie had actually taken meaning from his vague sound or if he'd simply been apologizing out of habit.

Opting to save the exchange for later when he had more time to examine it, he turned his focus back to York. Before he could commence with his usual round of threatening growling, though, the tan freelancer raised his hands in a gesture of peace.

"Only messing, man. I don't have a death wish. Besides, we don't wanna scare the new kid on the first day of school. Agent New York, by the way," he said to the rookie as he approached them. "You can just call me York, though."

"I'm – Washington," the new recruit returned stiffly, and they all knew he'd had to remind himself to use the codename.

"Good to know you, Wash," York said, pounding him good-naturedly on the shoulder. "These two are the Dakota twins, North and South, and that's Virginia," he introduced the other three individually.

"Gin's fine," Virginia said, offering a small wave. "Guess you're gonna be Maine's new roommate."

"Oh…really?" the new agent asked, looking over at Maine again, who just shrugged in response. "What…happened to the last one?"

"You sure you wanna know?" York asked, wrapping an arm around Washington's shoulders and leading him away from Maine.

"I…yes?" the rookie squeaked.

"Well, you'll probably find out one way or the other," York stage whispered sympathetically. "We've still got bets going on whether or not Maine _ate_ him."

David felt the blood drain from his already pale face when he turned to look at the mammoth freelancer again. Maine had turned his eyes to the ceiling in a very clear 'Lord, give me strength' sort of way, and for some reason, David still found it funny. He managed to hold back the giggle this time, instead offering Maine what he hoped was a friendly smile. For some reason, he just wasn't finding this man as scary as he was supposed to – as the others definitely seemed to.

"Guess I'll just have to take my chances," he said with a shrug as he disentangled himself from York.

"New pot," South suddenly announced. "Ten bucks says Maine puts the new kid through a wall by the end of the week. Who's bettin'?"

"Week? What week? They won't make it forty-eight hours," Gin said with a snort. "I'm completely in on that. Twelve bucks."

Thankfully for all parties involved, Maine heard none of this. His focus was completely on Washington. When he managed to stop looking at the rookie's blue eyes and look at his other features – at his short blond hair, his rounded, youthful face, the dusting of freckles scattered over his nose and cheeks – he found there was something almost _pleasing_ in those looks. He absolutely refused to concede that the word _cute_ may have crossed his mind. He didn't know what it was, but there was something he liked about this kid. Unlike most of the others, he actually _didn't_ feel the need to punch Washington through a wall – and it might just be for that reason that he _needed_ to. He'd just have to wait and see.

While all of this was going on, Carolina couldn't help seeing the way her friend and her brother were looking at each other. David she was used to seeing this sort of thing from. He had a stubborn habit of looking on the bright side, always had, as far back as she could remember. Even when he'd been just a helpless little baby rolling around in his cradle, he'd hardly ever cried. Always he had a smile and a laugh for everyone and she was relieved to see that a tour through the outer colonies hadn't diminished that. David was still her baby brother.

Maine was a different story.

She knew Maine was from the SPARTAN program. In fact, it was the reason he had so much trouble working with the other freelancers. He was used to a different level of communication, which none of the others could really understand. Neither did Maine expect them to. Even _she_ couldn't fully conceive of what it was like to be raised as a soldier, to be molded for the singular purpose of living and dying for the war, and as such, there was always that wall that seemed to surround the supersoldier – a wall that nobody but her had been gutsy enough to breach. She and Maine respected each other as soldiers and comrades, and she could see the protective and loyal nature that hid beneath the years of conditioning, loss, and anger, but she also knew he didn't let anyone else see that deeply into the heart of him. Now, the way he was looking at her brother, she got the very distinct impression that he _wanted_ David to see him. He _wanted_ the newest freelancer to see the truth of him – not just the Spartan that everyone else saw.

Maybe this was a good thing. Maybe David was the partner Maine needed in order to open up, to reach his full potential with Project Freelancer. No. She didn't think he was going to put her brother through a wall. In fact, she didn't think she could see Maine raising a hand to David ever. Maybe this was the friendship they _both_ needed. When Maine caught her staring at them, though, he just growled before turning on his heels and heading out of the locker room.

Okay. Probably this epic bromance she was seeing the seeds of would need a little more time to germinate. But in the meantime, she'd just have to work on calling David 'Wash' in her head. That was going to be a tough habit to break herself of.

"How about you, Carolina?" South called to her. "You want in on this one?"

"Yeah," the redheaded freelancer said, finally tuning back in to the conversation. "Fifty bucks on never."

York whistled as he glanced back at her. "Solid fifty? What do you know that we don't?"

"Nothing in particular," she said, tilting her head casually to the side. "Just think I've got a pretty good grasp of what does and does not annoy Maine," she finished, offering her brother a confident smirk, which caused some of the tension to ease from David… _Wash's_ shoulders. "Well, if you want to see the rest of the ship, we'd better get going. Daylight's wasting."

"Y'know, in so much as there _is_ daylight in the vacuum of space," York couldn't quite help adding.

XxX

By the time dinner rolled around, word of the new pot had apparently spread all around the _Mother of Invention_. Maine could tell because they all seemed to be watching him a bit more closely than normal, probably waiting for him to snap. If he'd been the type, he might've grinned at the extra attention, but he did have to keep up appearances. They were all expecting a berserker brute, after all.

David watched Maine with no small amount of trepidation, not out of worry for himself, but for anyone who happened to pass by the supersoldier. Agents and other personnel had been approaching South all throughout the meal in order to get in on the betting. Every time someone walked away from her and happened to pass by Maine, he would growl warningly at them.

"So…why is everyone making bets on how long it's gonna take Maine to hospitalize _me_ when he pretty clearly wants to break _South's_ neck?" he asked Carolina, gaze constantly shifting between her and his new roommate as he pushed the last of his potato salad around on his plate.

"They just don't know you and Maine like I do. They assume you'll do something stupid and get your head bashed in for your trouble. But I don't think you-"

"Hello," a new voice interrupted before Carolina could finish. Unlike most of the others in the mess hall, the agent who sat down beside Carolina was still in armor, save for her helmet. The armor was pure white with a set of purple accents, which the owner of the armor seemed to have matched with strands of purple-dyed hair framing her face.

In anyone else, David supposed he might have noticed the honey brown color of her skin or her dark hair. He definitely would've noticed the nasty scar that bisected her face, running from the left side of her forehead down to the right side of her jaw. Only he didn't really make note of any of these details until after the fact. What he saw when the new agent sat down beside his sister was her eyes. They were a sky blue color that…well…he didn't quite know how to describe it. The best way he could describe how he felt under this woman's gaze was like a slide under a microscope – like he was some lab specimen and her eyes were the needles pinning him in place. He felt a keen desire to look away, but found that he couldn't quite manage it. The new agent just kept staring at him, grinning amiably, but still staring – still piercing.

"Hey, Kansas," Carolina spoke up again, finally breaking the strange tension. "This is the new recruit, Agent Washington. Wash, Agent Kansas," she introduced.

"Hi," David mumbled, still finding himself unable to look away from Agent Kansas. He couldn't say how much longer she held him pinned like that before she finally blinked and looked down at the table, allowing him to look away.

"So you'll be bunking with Maine," she said quietly. "Very interesting. Six months, I think," she said before rising and going to place the bet with South.

David stared after Kansas for several moments before turning back to Carolina and hissing, "What the fuck is with her?"

Carolina shrugged before finishing off the last of her meatloaf. "I couldn't say. She has that effect on everybody, though. Try bunking with her sometime," she said with a brief shudder.

"Wait. _Kansas_ is your roommate?"

"That's right."

"Uh-oh. Kansas did the creepy eye thing again, didn't she," York said as he filled the spot Kansas had so recently vacated.

"Yeah," David responded with a shudder to match his sister's. "It was freaky. It was almost like…"

"Like you couldn't look away?" York suggested when he was unable to finish. David just nodded while the other freelancer shook his head in sympathy. "Sure you have what it takes to play with the big kids, grasshopper?" he asked, making a subtle grab for the brownie that still remained on Carolina's tray.

"Yeah, no," Carolina said, easily blocking his hand with her fork. "You'll steal this brownie over my dead body."

"But…but…brownie," York pouted, lower lip trembling comically, but Carolina had zero sympathy. She lifted the chocolaty dessert with one hand and took a large bite of it, slowly chewing while she leaned her forehead against his.

"Mmm," she moaned quietly while she chewed, eyes slipping shut.

"Now you're just being mean, 'lina," he said, groaning quietly as he looped an arm around her shoulders.

"Maybe you should have eaten yours slower," she suggested, tongue briefly darting out to trace his lips.

"Or maybe I'll just live a little vicariously," he said before catching her lips in a particularly deep kiss, apparently seeking out the flavor on her tongue.

"And that's my cue to duck out," David mumbled, chuckling awkwardly as he turned away from the pair. Just because he was happy his big sister had finally found a guy she could tolerate didn't mean he had to play spectator. Instead he turned his attention back toward Maine, whom he saw stand up and make his way to another table, where North and South were deep in conversation with Mitch and Gin.

Maine stood next to Gin for a solid five minutes before the shorter freelancer took notice of him. When he finally did, his shoulders tensed slightly as he turned to face the giant.

"Hey, Maine," he started hesitantly, moving his tray so that it was out of Maine's direct line of sight. "How's the teriyaki?"

Maine said nothing, just stared levelly at the other agent as he held out his hand, gesturing for him to hand him something.

"Aw. Aw, c'mon, man. Do we really have to start now? It's brownie night," Gin whined plaintively, spreading his arms as if to defend his tray.

Still Maine said nothing, just continued to hold out his hand expectantly.

"Maine, big guy, buddy," Gin cajoled. "What do you say to two _weeks_ of desserts and we start tomorrow instead of right now?"

Silent as ever, Maine shook his head, keeping his hand exactly where it was.

"But they won't make these again for another month. Brownies!" Gin continued to argue as he got up from the table, promptly dropping to his knees before Maine. "I'm prepared to cry and beg, o shining tower of SPARTAN badassery. Please see fit to spare this mere mortal his chocolaty indulgence."

Even then Maine remained unmoved, a tiny sneer curling his lip as he repeated his earlier gesture. Sighing, Gin finally reached back to his tray and picked up the much-contested square of chocolate, pressing a feather light kiss to its surface.

"Ah, Brownie, we barely knew ye," he lamented as he placed the brownie in Maine's hand. "Thou cutt'st my head off with a golden ax and smilest upon the stroke that murders me."

Maine said nothing, just chuckled gruffly as he headed away from the distraught man, grinning as he bit into the brownie. He didn't see Mitch split her brownie down the middle and pass half to Gin.

 _Well,_ David thought as he watched the hulking agent head out of the mess hall, _I'll definitely never be bored here._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So…any interest in seeing where it goes?


	2. Agent Foxtrot 25 - Designation, Washington

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, certainly hope I haven't kept everyone waiting too long. I come bearing more wonderful freelancer shenanigans.

By the time David was able to make it back to the bunk he'd been assigned, he found that Maine had also turned in for the night cycle. He walked in just in time to see the larger man finishing up a set of pushups. He was clad in nothing but a pair of light gray sweatpants and when David walked in, he couldn't quite keep his eyes from traversing the length of the other man's well toned back.

 _Definitely nothing wrong with that,_ David caught himself thinking, a mild blush heating up his face as he quickly snapped his gaze away. _Where the hell did_ _ **that**_ _come from?_

"Hey, roomie," he greeted before moving toward his bunk. Maine grunted as he rolled out of the last pushup, easily shifting into a sitting position on the floor. As he reached for the tablet that was situated on the end of his bed, he raised an eyebrow at David.

"Roomie doesn't work? What do I call you then?"

"My name?" Maine suggested, the corners of his mouth seeming to turn upward in spite of himself.

"Yeah, sure. Nothing wrong with Maine," David said as he fished through his bag, more to himself than to the actual man. When he finally came up with his toothbrush and toothpaste, he also grabbed his boxers and ducked into the small bathroom off their bunk. While he got ready for bed, he ran through about a hundred different things he could say to his new roommate before finally coming up with the perfect icebreaker.

Emerging from the bathroom in his sleep clothes, David went back to the duffel sitting on his bed, digging through it again until he came up with the item he was looking for. Then he moved toward Maine, slipping the offering into his lap and immediately taking a step back.

Maine's gaze quickly flicked down to whatever it was the other agent had given him – and his eyes visibly widened when he discovered it was a chocolate bar. The purple wrapping immediately signified to him that it was Cadbury. This was the good stuff. And Washington was just…what? _Giving_ it to him?

"What's this?" he asked in confusion as he looked up at the newest freelancer.

The shorter man tilted his head to the side. "Y'know, you'd think more people'd recognize a chocolate bar when they saw one."

Maine gave a warning growl at this, his expression going flat.

Washington laughed nervously as he held up his hands. "Yeah, yeah, sorry. I know what you meant. Call it a peace offering. Couldn't help noticing you have a bit of a sweet tooth. I thought you might like it."

"Not complaining," Maine rumbled, "but this is the high end shit. It's _mine?_ "

David raised an eyebrow, almost surprised to here Maine speak so much, but then he grinned, nodding. "Don't sweat it. I have four more. They were a going away present from my squad. I didn't ask who they had to kill to get ahold of them."

Maine gave a small chuckle at that, knowing it probably wasn't all that far off the mark to say that blood had been spilled over this chocolate. He'd already brushed his teeth, but the treasure that had literally just fallen into his lap was _way_ more important than dental hygiene. Trying not to be _too_ much of an animal about it, he tore open the purple plastic and broke a small section off the bar. He didn't go straight for the kill either. He took his time, actually feeling the chocolate between the pads of his fingers and taking a moment to inhale the scent of it before even taking his first bite.

And that first bite was probably the closest to heaven he'd ever been. He relished the way his teeth passed through chocolate, then the feel of it as it started to melt on his tongue. He used his tongue to spread the softening substance all around the inside of his mouth, the word _chocolate_ streaming through his head as the sweet, subtly bitter flavor overwhelmed his senses. Fuck, but this really _was_ good. Screw the brownies. He couldn't quite help moaning quietly as he swallowed.

"Oh," David started, feeling the blush briefly reignite. "Do I need to leave the two of you alone?" he tried to joke.

Maine flipped him off as he took another bite, enjoying the rare treat too much to let anything drag him down. All the other freelancers could pile in here and start laughing at him for all he cared. It would _not_ ruin this moment.

"Might have to," he finally managed to answer after his third bite. "This could get nasty."

"Whatever works for you," Washington said with a chuckle as he flopped down on his bunk.

Maine smirked to himself as he finished up the small piece of chocolate. Much as he wanted to just tear into the rest of the bar, he knew he had to make it last. After all, who knew when he might see something like this again? Carefully wrapping up the rest of the candy, he got to his feet and tucked it into the compartment beside his bunk. Then he shut down his tablet and crawled into bed.

"You don't need to make peace with me, Washington," he said quietly as he looked across the room at the new agent. "But no promises I won't kill you for the rest of that Cadbury."

Washington smiled easily as he looked back at him. "Guess that'll be an interesting fight, then. Y'know…for the five minutes I'll last against you."

Maine shook his head as he rolled over. "More than five. Better get some sleep, though," he advised, aware that Washington would officially join the rest of them in training tomorrow.

"Why? Early start?" the other man asked as he switched off the overhead light.

"No. You're fresh meat, Washington. Gonna need all the energy you can get."

XxX

When Carolina walked into their shared bunk, she was prepared to ask Kansas to maybe lay off the freaking out of her brother a little bit, but was instead surprised to find her heading toward the door.

"Heading out already?" Carolina asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Yes, well, it seems you're getting started early this evening," Kansas said with a smirk, nodding toward Carolina's bed. When Carolina followed her gaze, she found York already laid out beneath the covers, grinning at her. More than likely there wasn't anything under those covers but him. Carolina rolled her eyes, but still grinned back.

"Somebody's eager."

"Oh, you have no idea," York said. His grin stayed on, but there was a slight hitch in his voice that sounded a warning note in her brain. "So, Kansas, where exactly do you sleep during date night anyway? I know North's offered our room, but he says you never show up. Where _do_ you go?"

"Your question operates under the assumption that I sleep. Some of us have better things to do with our time. I'm here and there. Tonight I find myself interested in the fact that Maine has a new roommate. But never you mind about me. Enjoy," she said, patting Carolina on the shoulder as she moved past her and away down the corridor.

Slightly unnerved by the way her bunkmate had phrased that, Carolina was about to turn and ask her what she'd meant when she suddenly felt York's hand wrap around her wrist and pull her into the room, sliding the door shut behind her and locking it. Almost before she was aware of what was happening, he was pressing her back against the door and kissing her neck. She could feel the heat of his bare skin through her thin clothing.

Carolina laughed around a small groan as he nipped at her neck. "What's this all of a sudden?" she asked, briefly running her hands up and down his back.

"Nothing," he mouthed against her skin as his fingers kneaded into the muscles of her sides. "You were just exceptionally sexy defending your brownie's honor at dinner. I'm not sure what kept me from just throwing you down on the table and getting busy right there in front of the new kid."

Okay, that right there, that almost killed the mood. Just the idea of having sex in front of her little brother – gag – but of course, York didn't _know_ David was her brother. Why did she get the feeling this had something to do with him?

 _And we are done thinking about David,_ she berated herself as York's hands fell to the waistline of her sweatpants, beginning to ease them down over her hips as he moved to his knees before her.

"Not even going to the bed?" she asked with another small chuckle, shuddering faintly when he rested his head against her black cotton panties.

"Nope. Just lemme…mm…yeah…" he groaned, kissing her vulva through the cotton. Head falling back against the bare metal of the door, Carolina inhaled sharply, fingers burying themselves in York's hair.

"Hngh…God," she moaned, feeling heat already beginning to pool in her belly.

"Little formal there. York will do fine," he teased, starting to run his tongue along her still clothed sex.

"Heh, bastard," she groaned, tightening her grip just a little. "Better put that mouth to better use…mm…or I might just – _fu_ – leave you hanging."

"As you wish, my lady."

Once York had thoroughly soaked the fabric with his saliva, he grabbed at it with his teeth, expertly pulling her panties a little ways down her thighs to bunch with her sweatpants. Then he happily nestled his face between her legs, tongue immediately working into her folds, lapping at her.

"Ah… _ngh_ …yeah," she moaned heavily as his tongue began to swirl around her clit, lavishing attention on the undulating bundle of nerves. It didn't take him long to get her soaking wet.

 _Guess I was eager, too,_ she thought, gripping his hair even more tightly as she bucked against his mouth.

York hummed against her, the vibration of it thrumming through her and leaving her panting as a sheen of sweat broke out all along her skin.

"Huh… _gu_ …" was the only thing she could manage to vocalize as the two of them rocked furiously together, York's tongue working unrelentingly at the hot, moist center of her.

Carolina cried out sharply when she reached climax, gripping York's head and holding him against her body as she came, letting him feel each spasm against his now still tongue. She felt more than heard him grunt against her when he finished.

When the orgasm had finally wrung her out, Carolina let herself collapse against the door, breathing slowly, in and out. When she felt York tugging at her sweatpants to get them off, she quickly stepped out of them, pulling her panties back up before sliding down to the floor to sit with him. She didn't really know why, but she absolutely loved the feel of her panties against her own wetness. It would be the spark that got her fired up for the next round.

"Good?" York asked as he rested his forehead against hers.

"Very good," she answered, pulling him into a kiss and tasting her own slickness on his tongue. When they separated for a breath of air, she grinned at him. "Did you even touch yourself that time?"

"Can't say as I did, lovely lady. You're just that hot when you come."

"Well, hope you don't take _too_ long to get it back up. I'm going to need that a few more times before the night's over," she teased.

"Shouldn't be too much trouble," he said before gathering her up in his arms and carrying her over to her bed, lying down with her cradled close. "So…what's this thing with you and the rookie?"

"Interesting place to go directly after going down on me," she said, quirking an eyebrow at him as she propped herself up on his chest. "Are you _jealous,_ York?"

"Kath, I'm serious," he mumbled, not quite looking at her as his face colored. "You're not usually that involved with newbies. What's so special about this one?"

"Well…Wash is someone from before – an old friend, you might say. We've known each other for a _long_ time," she said, running a teasing finger along the side of his face.

"Jesus Christ, he's not an old boyfriend, is he?" York asked, actually looking worried for a moment.

"No. Oh, _God,_ no," Carolina groaned as she banged her head against York's chest, any playful mood she'd been in utterly murdered. She was going to have to get this cleared up before the man _really_ killed the mood. "Finn, he's my goddamn kid brother."

For a moment, York just stared at her, completely dumbstruck. When he finally managed to speak, it was with _very_ wide eyes. " _That's_ David?"

"Yes."

"Huh," he mumbled, head collapsing back on the pillow. "Well, fuck me."

"Gladly," she said, leaning up to give him a chastising peck on the cheek. "So long as we leave Wash out of it."

"Right," he said, gaze still slightly amazed and absent as he ran his fingers through her hair. "That why you bet the way you did in South's new pot?"

"Partly. He can make friends most places he goes. But there's a bit more to it than that."

"How so?"

"There was just…something in the way Maine was looking at him today. I don't know. There's something there," she explained as she rested her hands across his chest, pillowing her chin against them.

"So how do you go about quantifying something like never?" he asked, the grin slowly starting to return to his face.

"Don't have to, really. The pot'll just revert to me once everybody else loses."

"We'll just have to see what happens then. This was before I knew he was your brother, obviously, but I've got a twenty on a month."

Carolina chuckled quietly, shaking her head as she buried her face in his chest again. "Well, at least you've got more confidence in them than a good chunk of the others, but I know I'm right, so I'll just use that pot to buy us a really nice vacation next time we get shore leave."

"Looking forward to it."

XxX

"Agent Foxtrot 25. Designation, Washington," Aiden Price read aloud as he began to go through the newest freelancer's file. "Born 2525. Lately Captain David L. Church of the UNSCMC. Tours of duty on Alluvion and Isis. Commendations for valor and creative thinking. But of course you _know_ all this," the Counselor pointed out to the Director as the man paced the lab behind him. Dr. Church was even more familiar with the contents of this file than he would ever be.

"I am aware of Agent Washington's military record, Counselor. Is there a question in there somewhere?" the Director asked, glancing pointedly at him.

"I must, again, question the wisdom of the selection of this candidate."

"The same way you questioned Agent Carolina's selection?"

"The situation is, I believe, slightly different. Carolina is only your child. Washington is your child _and_ Carolina's sibling. Will this not lead to divided loyalties in the field?" he pointed out.

"Has it led to divided loyalties with North and South? Or Michigan and Virginia?" Dr. Church asked, raising an eyebrow.

"No. That will I grant, but given their history-"

"Remind me again, Counselor, what was your projection on Carolina's likelihood to neglect her teammates in competitive scenarios?" the Director interrupted.

"Fifty-seven percent," Price said. "But I hardly think that's-"

"Washington is the one person in all of creation I can guarantee she will not neglect. It seems to me you would appreciate a factor that would improve those numbers for her."

"Perhaps, but I really am curious as to what's so unique about this one. Surely there's more to it than improving Carolina's numbers."

The Director sighed as he moved to stand beside Price, eyes traveling over the image of David Church that accompanied the file on the holo screen. "Do you know why Agent Washington was promoted to a position of command at such a young age, Counselor?"

"I do not. Was there some reason apart from his exemplary academy records?"

"You will not find this in any official record, but David Church has something of a unique ability. He has ever since he was a child. No matter the situation he finds himself in, that boy somehow always manages to inspire camaraderie. He brings together people of disparate backgrounds and vastly differing endgames and somehow a team forms around him. I could not tell you why this is so. He just seems to inspire that quality in people. I cannot speak for you, but it seems to me that is something this program desperately needs," the Director finished before closing out the file.

"We will see," Price said. "I take it, then, that you have not joined in on the ship's latest wager?"

"Certainly not, Counselor. I do not much approve of South's games and I believe you're aware I don't much approve of your taking part either," Dr. Church said, glancing sideways at the Counselor.

"I hardly consider it a game. A mere five dollars added to the betting pool at two weeks," Price said with a very slight smirk. "After all, betting that Agent Maine will do something violent is hardly a gamble. It is an investment."

XxX

When David woke the next morning, Maine was already dressed. The larger man grunted at him, nodding toward the door as David climbed out of bed.

"Mm…can't," he grumbled. "No breakfast yet. I need to get to Medical. They've got me scheduled for a physical before I officially join the roster."

"Too bad," Maine said.

"No kidding. Probably won't be anything good left when I get done, and I could really go for some bacon," he said as he headed into the bathroom, hearing the door slide open as Maine headed out. David didn't think anymore on it as he got ready for the day, having mostly forgotten the exchange when he arrived at Medical – save for the slight gnawing in his stomach, of course. But even that was forgotten when a very familiar face entered the exam room where he was waiting.

"Good morning, Agent Washington," the doctor greeted as she swept into the room, smiling at him with his same blue eyes. She also possessed the same pale face and scattering of freckles he did – features he'd been told they both shared with his mother. Really, the only difference was her long red hair, which was threaded through with a few more strands of gray since he'd last seen her. But here she was, just the same.

"No way," he started, a grin lighting his face as he stood to hug her. "Aunt Gwen? It's so good to see you."

"It's wonderful to see you, too, baby bird," she said fondly, hugging him back just as fiercely.

"You can't call me that anymore," he said, still grinning, though his face flushed in mild embarrassment at the old nickname. "Guess I have to call you Dr. Dorokhov now, though."

"Of course, of course," she said, still smiling as they separated. "Normally I don't handle new agent physicals, but we all figured this would be quicker, as I'm already familiar with your medical history. Hope it's not too awkward for you."

"Nah," he said, shaking his head. "But A…Gwen," he corrected himself at least that much. "What are you still doing here? Kat told me you resigned your post. I thought you'd be going back to Earth."

"I did resign my post," she explained as she began to pull up his files on her datapad. "I'm no longer serving as Agent Tennessee, but Leonard requested I stay on in a scientific personnel capacity, and you know I never have been able to refuse your father anything. So here I am. But what about you…Wash? I read about the victory on Isis."

"Well, it was…pretty much what you read about. I can't really add anything to it."

"I also hear you're the center of attention already. Rooming with Maine?" she asked, raising an eyebrow as she started to take his blood pressure.

"Oh, you heard about that?"

"I did. How's it been going?"

"Not bad. Pretty good, I'd say. I don't know why everyone else is so bothered. Maine's a good guy."

"Well, Wash, be happy he let's you see that much of himself. I don't disagree with you on any particular point, but Maine's a very…private individual. If he's comfortable with you, I'd advise you not take advantage of that in any way. He let's no one else see it, but that boy does have his vulnerabilities."

"Right," he said with a nod, wondering how old his aunt was feeling today if she was referring to someone like _Maine_ as a boy.

"And how's your love life?" she continued to press as she went about the exam. "Anyone special I should know about?"

"Pretty sure that's not part of the physical," he said with a laugh, not wholly able to push aside some of the dirtier thoughts that crossed his mind.

"No, but it is part of the aunt quiz, and as we all know, Project Freelancer is a family affair."

"True, but no. There's nobody," he said. There was something that had happened in his first squad, but he didn't feel quite ready to talk about that, and before his aunt could comment on the fresh blush on his face, there was a knock at the exam room door.

"Come in," Gwen called out, but when nobody did, she moved to the door to have a peek into the hallway. All David heard was a slightly surprised, "Oh."

"Oh, what?" he asked as she pulled back into the room. When she came back to him, she had a plate in her hands – a plate loaded with bacon and a biscuit. All he could respond with was, "Oh."

"I've already eaten, so I assume whoever left this left it for you. Mean anything to you?" she asked as she set the plate down on the counter opposite the exam table.

"Uh…yeah. Yeah, actually, it does," he answered, awkwardly scratching the back of his head as his blush deepened. "I'd say we're even now."

His aunt smirked as she surveyed him. "Well, I'm here when you want to talk about it. Let's get this exam finished up so you can eat. You'll definitely need to keep your strength up these next few weeks."

XxX

 _How fucking right she was,_ David found himself thinking by the end of the day as he sat in the locker room, contemplating his already numerous failings as a freelance agent.

He'd been fighting basic evaluation matches all day and there would be more tomorrow. So far he'd gone up against North, South, Wyoming, Florida, Indiana, and Michigan, and had been thoroughly trounced by each one of them. Really, he just wasn't much of a brawler. Solo fighting had never been his thing. Were they even going to bother keeping him around if all he could manage to do was hang out at the bottom of the pecking order?

"We gonna make a habit of this?" he suddenly heard Maine's gruff voice asking. When he looked to the door, he saw his bunkmate entering, completely out of armor and carrying a bowl. "Not good to be skipping meals."

"No. It probably isn't," David said slowly, shaking his head before removing his helmet. Maine raised an eyebrow at him as he came to sit beside him on the bench.

"Didn't believe me when I said you'd be fresh meat?"

"It isn't that," David said, running a still-gloved hand through his hair in exasperation. "I don't know. I guess I just thought I might actually have achieved _something._ "

"Eat," Maine encouraged, pressing the bowl into his hands. "Carolina said you'd like it."

"Thanks," David said, swirling a spoon through what looked to be beef stew. "I didn't thank you for earlier, did I. Well, thanks for that, too. I really appreciated it."

"Appreciate now by _eating_ it," Maine said firmly, a strangely amused smirk stretching across his face. "Sit here all night if we have to."

David nodded, smiling faintly before raising the spoon to his mouth for a bite of the stew, happy to find that it had cooled to a manageable temperature and that the concoction actually tasted like beef stew. For a while after, the pair just sat in silence while he ate. When he'd finished, he set the bowl on the bench between them.

"Thanks," he said again, offering Maine a smile. "That must have been some seriously amazing chocolate."

Maine wasn't about to acknowledge it, but there seemed to be a tiny fluttering in his chest every time he received one of those smiles. "Cadbury," he said, no other explanation really necessary, but he kept going anyway. "Not really the reason, though."

"Oh? So what _is_ the reason?"

"You don't piss me off."

For most people, that wouldn't have been a reason, but from everything David had learned so far, that was almost – sweet coming from Maine. Probably shouldn't use that exact word, though, so David just grinned in response.

"Why were you holding back?" Maine asked him.

"Hmm? What do you mean?"

"Can tell when someone's giving their all. You weren't. Why?"

"I don't know. I guess I just…don't know where I stand with everybody here," David said with a shrug. "I'm more used to a structure where it's not a good idea to go around beating on your superior officers. Plus I'm just not that good at one on one. I get nervous so I guess I just back down and…and here I am treating you like a therapist or some shit," he said with a self-deprecating chuckle, realizing some of the things that were coming out of his mouth.

Maine's shoulders shook in a silent chuckle of his own. "Wouldn't ask if I didn't want to know. They aren't your superiors, though. Freelancer's different from the Corps. They expect you to be your own agent here. You won't be punished for giving somebody what's coming to 'em. One on one, that I can help with," the larger agent said, getting to his feet.

"Seriously?" Wash asked, looking up at him, but hesitating before getting up himself. "Wait. This isn't the part where you prove everyone right and put me in the hospital, is it?"

Again, the behemoth's shoulders shook with silent laughter. "Maybe you'd better keep the armor on," he said, offering David his hand.

"Right," David said, taking the offered hand and letting Maine pull him to his feet. The other freelancer immediately moved to take up a solid stance at the center of the room.

"Throw me a few punches," Maine instructed, holding up his hands.

"What? Just…hit you?" David asked uncertainly as he brought up his fists.

"Heh, no. As if you _could._ Just throw a few at me. I'll catch them. Wanna see your form when you're _not_ getting pummeled."

"Sure…okay," David said, still unsure, but curious to know if this would help at all. Taking his own stance before Maine, he threw several punches at his open hands, slightly amazed at how solid those hands felt against his own armor-clad punches.

"Strong enough," Maine began to comment as he continued to throw punches. "But uncertain. Feels like you'll topple over any minute," he said as he started to move slowly backward, forcing David to follow him. The youngest freelancer very nearly face-planted when he missed landing a punch. Grabbing his wrist to prevent him from falling, Maine swung him around, being as gentle as he knew how to be as he smacked him against the locker bank.

"Own your strength," Maine advised him. "Stand your ground and they won't be able to knock you down."

"All right," David said, staring at Maine for a moment before pushing himself off the lockers and back onto his feet.

"Again," Maine said, holding his hands up for David to hit, and so again they went at it, gradually losing track of time as they moved back and forth across the locker room floor. By the time they both realized just how late into the night cycle it had gotten, they'd both received just as thorough a workout as they had during training.

"Better be getting some sleep," Maine said, going to pick up the now empty bowl he'd brought. "Tomorrow'll be more of the same."

"Hey, Maine? Thanks for this."

"Sure."

"No, really. Thank you," David said, not looking away from Maine as he spoke.

"No problem," Maine said, though he made sure not to look back at the other agent, knowing that if he did, he would see those earnest blue eyes. "Just don't make an ass of yourself next time."

XxX

 _What was that shit about owning my strength?_ David found himself thinking about a week later as South ground him into the dust with a pugil stick. He was used to strict training regimens, of course, but being ground underfoot by twenty some agents was a bit much. He wasn't _quite_ as much of a fail child as he'd been on that first day, but he still had yet to see much improvement against his fellow agents.

This was supposed to be a three-way match between him, South, and Mitch, but the two ladies just couldn't seem to help ganging up on him.

"Come on, gatito!" Mitch called out as she came up behind him, letting the business end of her own pugil stick hover just above his head. "I can only pull so many punches here."

"Yes, Ma'am," he groaned, bracing himself just before she let the electrified tip connect with his helmet, sending an unpleasant jolt throughout the armor. What he couldn't have known, but that would have surely embarrassed him even more, was that he was being watched from the observation deck by a group of very entertained freelancers.

"Damn, but they are just giving it to him down there," Gin said with a laugh.

"Maybe we should have started a pool for South," York suggested.

Maine grunted as he continued to watch the match, his only comment a muttered, "This is bullshit," to Carolina, who just shrugged.

"He's going to have to figure it out sometime."

Maine rolled his eyes beneath the visor of the EVA helmet, because really, how much longer did they feel like watching the kid get kicked around like a soccer ball? Shaking his head, he said to his friend, "I'm entering."

"Seriously?" she asked, turning to look at him, but he was already heading off the observation deck. He heard shouts of protest from South and Mitch when he entered the training room.

"What gives, princesa?"

"Uh, yeah. What the fuck, Maine? We're not through here."

Maine ignored them. He moved right past them toward Washington, who was lying on the floor. For once, he actually managed to ignore Mitch's 'princess' crack. His focus was purely on his roommate.

When David saw the hulking agent moving in his direction, he rolled onto his side, looking away from him.

"Well, this is embarrassing," he said with a pained sigh.

"Get up," Maine growled quietly, not exactly unkind, just his normal way of speaking.

 **What did I tell you? They aren't your superiors,** Maine's message flashed across David's HUD as he got to his feet. **Freelancer doesn't work like that. You don't have to let them mop the floor with you.**

"It's a little tough when they decide to gang up on you, you know?" David said, going to retrieve his fallen stick. When he looked back at his bunkmate, it was to see him grabbing a pugil stick of his own. Maine held up two fingers, snapping them together before firmly gripping the training weapon in both hands.

"Together?" David asked, and Maine nodded once, falling into a battle ready stance as David came to stand beside him, falling into the same position.

"Agent Maine entering the match," F.I.L.S.S. announced overhead. "Good luck, agents."

"No problem," South said. "Maine can't play with the other kids anyway."

"Yeah, we can totally take princesa and gatito," Mitch said, tapping her stick against the floor before falling into step with her own roommate.

As the two women ran at them, Maine felt oddly calm. It was a strange feeling for him, especially on the training room floor. The way he'd been raised to fight, the way he'd learned to react to the rest of the world, was with anger. Unfortunately, that sense of clarity did lead to a touch of overconfidence and the man ended up defaulting to his normal battle strategy, which was to just run full tilt at his opponents.

With Mitch and South focused on taking down Maine, David actually had a proper minute to observe the situation. Having gotten an idea of how Maine moved from their evening sessions, he could see the larger agent focusing his considerable power on Mitch. Were it not for the fact that South was splitting off from her to catch Maine in a classic pincer move, he would probably end up completely bowling her over.

Seeing the opportunity, David moved in swiftly, coming at South from behind and delivering a harsh blow with the training weapon, sending her crashing to the floor. Before Mitch could even react, Maine had delivered a blow to her midsection and David had swung around, landing a blow to her shoulders and dropping her to the floor just a few feet from South.

When Wash looked up at Maine, he felt like he could actually see the surprise behind the larger man's visor. And when he tilted his head upward, it had an air of curiosity to it.

"Again?" Wash asked.

"Again," Maine agreed.

"Who-ho-hoa!" Gin cheered in amazement, starting to clap.

"I didn't know Maine _could_ pull off a coordinated attack like that," North said, nodding in agreement.

" _Was_ it coordinated?" York asked with a chuckle. "I think that might have just been luck."

"Interesting," Kansas commented. " _Very_ interesting."

Carolina didn't say anything, just nodded in a self-satisfied sort of way. Down on the floor, Mitch and South both shook themselves off as they climbed back to their feet.

"Uh…South?"

"Yeah?"

"I think we're in trouble."

Neither agent had much of a chance to recover before Maine was coming at them again. In the hope that the earlier move had just been a fluke, they attempted the same pincer move again, with Mitch splitting off from South. Once again, though, Wash was there, coming at Mitch out of nowhere, easily leaving room for Maine to take down South. When the move failed a third time, the pair went after Wash again.

A little more confident this time around, Wash stood his ground when the two rushed him. He was prepared to take the blow, but was instead surprised when Maine came at them from the side, taking them both down.

"What's wrong? Didn't see that coming?" he asked, not sure where he'd gotten the nerve to taunt the two.

"Okay. At…exactly what point…did we lose control here?" South panted as she climbed back to her feet.

"Probably when princesa decided to tag team," Mitch responded. "You take gatito and I take princesa?"

"Sure."

With that, the pair split, each going for their separate target.

"All right, rookie. This time it's personal," South snarled as she went after Wash. To his credit, he didn't go down at the first hit, but Maine was still left to worry when Mitch engaged him, forcing him to block a blow to his head.

"Find a new pet, princesa?" Mitch teased lightly as they traded blows. "Guess this one's kinda cute."

The sad thing was Maine _knew_ Mitch was trying to get a rise out of him. She always did, and normally it worked, but today he had other things to worry about. Delivering a full body check to the smaller agent, he barely noticed her fall. He was already moving toward South and Wash.

Wash noticed Maine's approach out of the corner of his eye, but in keeping her focus on him, South didn't seem to notice the giant at all. Subtly moving away, Wash got South to turn her back to Maine completely, leaving her wide open for him to land a blow to her head. Disoriented from the strike, she was easy prey to be tossed to the floor next to Mitch.

"Kay…that didn't work," Mitch groaned, barely managing to get to her knees, leaning heavily on her pugil stick.

"Ya think?" South snapped. "Any other brilliant ideas?"

"Got one more. We both go for the big guy again. You worry about him. I'll worry about gatito."

"Right," South said as the two pulled themselves up off the floor, taking a moment to adjust before launching themselves at Maine again.

Maine was about to go flying back into the fray when Wash stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

"Wait," he said, thinking he'd guessed Mitch's intention. Maine's first instinct was to ignore him, but Wash had made enough good calls so far to earn his attention for at least another minute.

Rather than split off from him, Wash stayed right by Maine's side until the last possible moment. Then he shoved Maine to the side.

The hulking freelancer was so surprised by the move, it actually managed to knock him sideways, but when he looked at Wash, it was just in time to see him swing his pugil stick around and strike Mitch in the back of the head. He barely had time to mirror the move on South before losing his feet completely and falling. The fall was worth it, though, as both women were down again and F.I.L.S.S. was overhead announcing, "Match to Agents Maine and Washington. Thank you for your participation, agents."

"Jesus, gatito, where the hell did all that come from?" Mitch asked as she rolled onto her back, laughing all the while. "You, too, princesa. Have you guys been taking some private dance lessons or something?"

Maine just grunted in response as he got to his feet. Shrugging, he nicked Wash's pugil stick from him and started to head off the floor.

"Thanks, big guy!" Wash called after him. "Would've been dead without you."

Maine stopped briefly at this, turning the phrase over in his head. Mostly when the others called him that, it irked him just a little bit, but when Wash said it – he didn't know why, but he couldn't quite help smiling beneath his visor. Shrugging one more time, he growled softly back at the youngest freelancer.

'Anytime.'


	3. We're Building it Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, guys, I am so sorry it took me so long to get these chapters out. I just had to get my little steampunk AU off the ground and then the holidays got super busy at the bookstore. Now all that madness is done, though, I should definitely be able to dedicate a more reasonable amount of time to my stories.

**Y'know, I'm starting to think the Director gets off watching the two of us tag team against the others.**

Wash just about choked on his own spit when Maine's message flashed across his HUD. He'd already been getting _way_ too much innuendo from York about what the man was doing to his sister off the training floor. The absolute last thing in the world he wanted to think about was his father getting off on _anything,_ much less something _he_ was doing.

"Maine! What the _fuck?_ " he squeaked as the two of them headed onto the floor for their next match. Connecticut and Delaware were entering from the other side. Both wore brown armor, but Del's was accented with a set of deep red stripes that had always reminded Wash a little too much of blood.

Maine shrugged. **Just saying. Seems like I've done more team matches in the past month alone than I have in all the time I've been part of this project.**

"He…probably just likes to see his agents performing well…and I only realized how much worse that sounded as it was coming out of my mouth," Wash groaned, grateful for the armor that hid his blush.

**Just keep digging yourself deeper there.**

"Fuck you."

"Get in line," Maine said aloud, voice not much more than a growl, and Wash felt almost certain that his spike in body temperature would register on his partner's HUD. Maine liked him well enough as a roommate, a partner, and a friend, but if the Spartan found out he was starting to nurse this little crush, well…then things might just start to get awkward.

"Oh, shit, it's them," Wash suddenly heard Delaware saying. When he looked to the older freelancer, it was to see him calling up to the observation deck. "If it's all the same to you guys, I'd like to take this opportunity to surrender. I ain't about to take on the dynamic duo before I've had my goddamn coffee."

"What's wrong, Del? Is the big bad hell jumper afraid of a rookie?" Connecticut mocked her partner as she selected a training pistol for herself.

"Nah, I don't mind the rookie. Might mind the Spartan superfreak being backed up by a kid who can read and follow his every move. That could be a bit of a problem," Del said, still not selecting a weapon. Wash tried not to listen in while picking out his own pistol, but he couldn't entirely help hearing the words, letting them stroke his ego before looking to Maine, ready to follow his opening move like normal.

"Agent Delaware," the Director's voice sounded from the observation deck, "I'm sure you're aware that surrender is _not_ permitted in my program. You will engage in the training exercise, caffeine or no caffeine, or you will suffer the consequences."

"Jesus. Old man can't even take a joke," Del said with a snicker as he finally selected a pistol.

"Just because I'm curious, who's actually older? You or him?" was the last thing Wash heard Connecticut say before the obstacle columns began to rise from the floor, creating terrain for them to engage on. Maine was about to take point when Wash suddenly stopped him with a hand on his arm. When the Spartan turned to look at him, he motioned forward with his pistol, indicating he wanted to go first.

Maine tilted his head to the side in confusion.

**Bait?**

Wash shook his head.

**Not exactly. Just cover me. Keep low.**

Maine shrugged, a gesture that was already exaggerated with his massive shoulders. Keeping low was a feat easier said than done in his case, but if Wash had an idea, he was more than willing to let the shorter agent play the hand. Giving Wash five minutes to enter the labyrinth ahead of him, he then moved in, keeping out of sight as best he could.

Wash, on the other hand, was moving boldly through the obstacle columns, trusting Maine to watch his back. He was pretty sure neither of their opponents would fall for this ruse, but it should serve well enough to throw them off guard, leaving them uncertain as to what might actually be happening.

The newest freelancer grinned when he heard the sound of a round of lockdown paint being fired. Given that it had sounded somewhere behind him, it was most likely Maine. Now to find out where his own opponent was hiding.

And of course the answer to that mystery came in the form of a paint splatter about an inch from his head. Wash quickly ducked and rolled behind the nearest column, out of the line of fire. When he glanced back around, he caught a glimpse of Connecticut peeking around another column, lining up for her next shot. He risked firing off one of his own before ducking back behind the column.

"Well, this could take forever," he muttered to himself as another paint ball flew over his column.

 **Pinned down,** Maine's message came to him as another volley of gunfire sounded from somewhere else on the field. **Distraction would be helpful.**

Wash rolled his eyes and shook his head. He was starting to think Maine just liked seeing what he would do whenever he requested a distraction. So far his "distractions" had gotten them a leg up in matches with both Gin and Mitch and North and South. Maybe he could make it work one more time.

"Well, here goes nothing," he muttered before leaping out of cover and straight up onto the column he'd been hiding behind. Fighting to keep his balance, he fired off several wide shots. When he stole a glance at Connecticut, he could see she was risking standing up. If she could tilt her head any further to the side, she'd probably snap her neck. Almost as if he could read her lips beneath her helmet, he could see the very clear 'what the fuck' in her posture.

Taking one more shot before moving back under cover, he actually managed to clip the other agent's shoulder, immobilizing her gun arm with paint. He knew his distraction had also succeeded in its intended purpose when he heard Del give several angry shouts.

The scenario continued in this way for several more rounds, each team taking hits by turns. Wash and Maine came together and separated as they needed to, taking time in between rounds to scrape away the disgusting lockdown paint. When they got to the point where the next point awarded would decide the entire match, though, that was when things really started to get interesting.

Wash and Maine had switched up who was on point for the umpteenth time, with Maine in the lead and Wash watching his back, when Wash suddenly heard Del not three feet to his left.

"Okay, enough of this bullshit."

Before Wash could make a move to seek out cover, before he could even warn his partner, two shots of paint caught him on the left hand and right leg, immediately cementing him to the nearest column. The former captain quickly raised his weapon in an attempt to get off one last shot, but just as quickly found his hand immobilized by another shot of the paint. Then, to be completely certain he was down for the count, Del made sure to pin his left foot to the column as well.

"Shit! Looks like I'm done, Maine," he tried to shout to his partner. "You'd better be-"

Suddenly Wash found himself cut off by a hard blow to his head. Were it not for his helmet, he probably would've been concussed by the force with which his head struck the column.

Disoriented from the assault, Wash could barely look up at his opponent.

"Del, what…what the _hell?_ " he tried to demand, but still couldn't quite gather himself enough to understand what was happening.

"What? Can't take a little roughin' up, rookie?" the older agent mocked. His next blow actually left a tiny crack along Wash's visor. He vaguely noticed Maine was trying to send him a message, but couldn't see it for the damaged screen.

"It's…a paint scenario," he rasped out, struggling uselessly against the paint that held him in place. "The fuck do you think you're doing?"

"Don't worry, kid. This won't take long. Hey, Maine!" Del challenged his partner. "You gonna let me wale on your new pet, or are you gonna fucking _do_ something about it?"

"Maine!" Wash cried out in his dazed state. Suddenly not sure just how seriously Del was taking things, all he could think about was warning his partner away.

Maine, meanwhile, had moved into the open, staring Del down along the corridor created by the columns and feeling anger beginning to boil in his gut. The sad thing about all this was that the other freelancers _knew_ that the best way to beat him was to make him angry. If they were willing to risk gross bodily harm in order to gain the advantage, many of them used this against him. He recognized when they used this tactic, but it never seemed to matter. He got angry all the same and he wound up doing something stupid.

This was different.

Del seemed perfectly willing to hurt Wash to prove a point. Maine couldn't let the anger take over this time. There could be more severe consequences than just his pride being injured. If there was anything he'd learned from Wash these last few weeks, it was to make your enemy think they had the upper hand. Where brute strength didn't work, the element of surprise was preferable. So, tossing aside his pistol, he did exactly what Del expected him to do. He barreled headlong at him, roaring in anger.

"Maine, no!" he heard Wash shouting.

"Typical Maine," the hell jumper grunted.

Maine could just picture the arrogant smirk on Del's face as the older freelancer lined up for his shot, thinking he had this in the bag. Smirking himself, he made his move just as his opponent squeezed the trigger, launching himself up onto one of the columns in imitation of Wash's earlier move and completely clearing the shot of paint.

Before Del could react, Maine had leaped from the column and slammed into him, driving him mercilessly into the floor. With an animalistic snarl, he delivered a nasty blow to the man's head before seizing his gun and firing a round of paint down on him, completely covering his head and cementing it to the floor. He needn't have worried about immobilizing his enemy, though. His first blow had knocked the older soldier out cold.

Taking advantage of the moment of shock, Maine quickly turned Del's pistol on Connecticut, who was just standing in amazement, watching the exchange.

The only sound on the training floor once Connecticut had fallen was F.I.L.S.S. announcing the score and the fact that the victory went to Maine and Wash, but neither agent really heard her. They were too busy staring at each other.

This was the first time Wash had really seen the war machine the other freelancers spoke of in hushed tones. It was the first time he understood _why_ they were afraid of him. Was it…fear he was feeling _now?_

Maine, on the other hand, _knew_ he was feeling fear. It was a strange sensation for him, but he still recognized it, having felt it so keenly only once before in his life. Even though he couldn't see his partner's face, he could still see the conflict in him – whether they were going to go on being friends after this moment, or if Wash was just going to be afraid of him like everyone else. He had seen others turn away from him like that, and he mostly just took it with a bitter shrug and an angry snarl, figuring that was just his lot in life.

But for some reason, the thought of losing Wash like that was horrifying. So rather than work up a knot of anger in his heart, Agent Maine allowed his throat to be stopped with fear, allowed his human form to tremble beneath the hardened shell of his armor, and he waited. He waited, kneeling over his downed enemy, to see what decision his partner would make.

_Please…look at me. Don't turn away. Not now._

Ultimately, Wash shook his head. He wasn't afraid of Maine. He wasn't sure how he was so certain, but he knew he had nothing to fear from Maine. Despite the pain from Del's beating and the sting from the lockdown paint, he felt a small smile move across his face.

Maine felt some long held tension in him ease when Wash tilted his head endearingly to the side. He very nearly drew the Spartan 'smile' gesture across his faceplate, but resisted the urge, knowing Wash would have no idea what it meant.

"Thanks, big guy," Wash said quietly. "Would've been dead without you."

"Anytime," Maine returned as he got to his feet. The words were becoming something of a ritual with them. As a medical team rushed in to retrieve Del, the Spartan moved toward his partner, helping him to chip away the lockdown paint. "All right?"

"A little woozy, but otherwise fine," Wash said as he finally managed to pull away from the column. "You?"

"Not a scratch."

"Dang, Maine. Talk about turning the tables," Connecticut said as she headed toward them, Mitch and South already having come to help her out of Maine's vicious paintjob. "Maybe the guy'll think twice in the future. And Wash, much as I hate to admit it, that was a nice move with the column. I'm not sure if anybody but you could pull that shit off."

"Thanks…I think, Connecticut," he said slowly.

"Don't bother with the whole Connecticut thing, man. Just call me Connie," the much shorter agent said, pounding him on the shoulder before starting to head off the floor. "I'm keeping my eye on you, Wash."

Wash's gaze moved from Connie back to Maine, tilting his head questioningly to the side. Maine just shrugged in response. Then he reached forward to remove the damaged helmet from Wash's head. Wash grinned up at his partner as the armor came away, but turned away the moment he felt a heated blush begin to paint his pale cheeks.

"Yeah, I should probably get that fixed," he said as he also started to head off the floor, feeling the grin spread wider when he heard Maine follow after him.

XxX

Gwen couldn't completely keep back her yawn as she moved through the corridors of the _Mother of Invention_ , heading toward the Director's office. Her brother-in-law, rather unfortunately, had a penchant for late night meetings, so in addition to all the hours she put in for medical, she also had to keep up with Leonard's erratic sleep schedule. It had been easy enough back during their college days, but now, up north of 40, it was starting to wear on her just a little bit.

"Gwen! Wait up!" a familiar voice called out to her. The geneticist turned back to see Agent Colorado heading toward her, still dressed in his olive green armor, despite the fact that it was long after the night cycle was set to have begun.

"Hey, Ben," she greeted warmly when he finally reached her. Despite him still being in armor, she stood on tiptoe to give her old friend a hug.

"Y'know, it's almost weird to hear my actual name," he told her as they began to move forward together. "I get so used to hearing CO all day, it throws me off a little."

"Would you rather I call you CO?" Gwen asked with a small laugh.

"No way. I'm not your commanding officer and I'm never gonna be Colorado to you. To you, I'm just Ben. Honestly…it's nice to have someone to be just Ben to."

"I know what you mean. It's nice to be just Gwen to you and not Dr. Gwendolyn Dorokhov. Though I do have to ask, have you even made it to the mess hall this evening? I can't imagine what you're still doing in armor."

"Kat wanted to go a few more rounds. You know I can't turn her down when she gets that Allison look in her eyes. Sometimes I wonder if she knows just how much like her mom she is."

Gwen nodded. "She is," she answered quietly, falling silent for several minutes before continuing with, "Sometimes I think it scares her…becoming like her parents. But she's already more like Allie than she's ever likely to know. I know Leonard sees it…even if she doesn't."

"You on your way to see him, too?" Ben asked casually.

"I am. And you?"

"Uh-huh. And now I'm kinda nervous to find out what it is if he wants the two of us."

"So…I hear David's doing well," Gwen said, attempting to turn the conversation in a more pleasant direction.

"Very well. I think he's finally starting to get into the swing of things around here. Seems like Maine's also getting to be less of a recluse with him around. Starting to look more and more like Kat's going to win that pot."

Again, Gwen lauged. "How long will it be until we know for sure?"

"I think the longest bet is on six months. If by that time Maine hasn't put David in the hospital, the pot reverts to her. It's gotten pretty big, too. Last I checked, the pot was sitting pretty at about 950 bucks."

The geneticist gave an appreciative whistle at that. "So did you place a bet?"

"I didn't really expect anything to come of it, but I thought it might be fun to see what happened, so I put two bucks down on three days. We can all see how quickly _that_ lost out," the de facto commanding officer said with a shrug.

"Maybe I ought to put fifty down so Kat ends up with an even thousand when it's all over," Gwen mused.

"They'd all definitely get a kick out of it. I know it sorta bothered the two of them at first, but I think they're just getting a good laugh at it now. And really, I think that's the only time I believe this David kid's the same baby you were holding in your arms when Ari, Allison, and I went off to fight nineteen years ago," Ben commented, eyes briefly going distant.

"When he laughs?" Gwen clarified.

"Yeah. It's damn crazy is what it is. You leave a baby behind to go fight a war, spend a couple years on a prison world, and when you climb back out of hell, that same baby's just about a man. Damn crazy."

The doctor and the agent continued to reminisce as they made their way to their boss's office, mostly the doctor talking about the agents now called Washington and Carolina when they'd been four and eight, but when they finally reached their destination, it was to find a very somber-faced Leonard Church pacing the room.

"Still not sleeping, I see," Gwen scolded as the two friends entered the office. Before she or Ben could say anything more, though, Leonard gave a command to the ship's AI.

"F.I.L.S.S., I want this office placed on complete lockdown. Nothing is to be recorded or placed on a file of any kind," the man ordered sharply.

"Of course, Director," the dumb AI acknowledged. Once she'd complied, Leonard leaned heavily against his desk, sighing as he rubbed at his temples.

"Gwendolyn, Benton, I believe the pair of you may well be the only two people left alive I still trust completely. As such, what I am about to say to you…I want your personal guarantee that it _does not_ leave this room. You hear this, you understand what is to happen, and you never say it again. I want that understood before we proceed."

"Of course we promise," Gwen started. "But Leonard-"

"I need to hear it from you, too, Ben," the Director interrupted before his sister-in-law could finish.

"I promise," Ben said, albeit somewhat reluctantly.

"Our progress reports are finally starting to get some attention high up in the UNSC. We are finally going to be granted the artificial intelligence construct necessary to begin our experiments with," he told them, looking them both in the eyes.

"Well…Leonard, that's wonderful. I don't see why you would need us to-"

"I haven't said all, Gwen," the man said pointedly as he stood from the desk. "The trouble here is that they are only granting us _one_ construct, and I think you're aware of just how severely that will limit what we are able to achieve with this program."

"So…what are you thinking, exactly?" Ben finally asked, watching his old friend uncertainly.

"I have been considering the best way to generate more than one personality from a single mind."

"More…than one…what? You mean like…dissociative identity disorder?" Gwen pressed, suddenly beginning to feel nervous.

"Something in that vein, yes. I had thought it might be possible to…shall we say, reverse engineer a mental break…to create multiple…fragments in this way," Leonard explained, and as he moved around to the other side of his desk, his two friends glanced nervously at each other.

"Leonard, you…you're talking about torture," Gwen pointed out. " _Torturing_ an AI…even if it is a created thing…a smart artificial intelligence is still a living, conscious being. To consider such a thing is…it's _monstrous,_ Leonard. Please think. There _has_ to be another option."

"There isn't. You both know how important our work is. People are _dying._ Every day we fail to produce results is another day the UNSC sends ill-equipped soldiers out to die at the hands of the Covenant!" Leonard snapped at them, as if it wasn't a fact they were already only too familiar with. "We are short on both time and funding. Nobody in the galaxy has more time to give us, but the only way to secure more funding for our work is to produce results, and this is the only way to produce useable results."

"Are we any better than our enemies, then? If this is what we have to do to survive?" Ben argued, gazing sadly at his boss and friend.

"Ben, if we cannot bring this project to a successful conclusion, it will mean that you suffered for nothing. That Allison and Ari died for _nothing._ Is that what you want?" Leonard needled them.

"Of _course_ not, Leonard. We're on your side here, but to see you even consider doing this to another mind is just-"

"You misunderstand me, Gwen," the Director interrupted her yet again. "I have no intention of using _another_ mind for this."

"What…what do you mean?" Gwen finally got herself to ask, fearing that she already knew, but needing to hear it just the same.

"I mean that in order to do this, I would prefer to model the construct after my own mind. I would not consider torturing another to achieve the necessary results, but to subject my _own_ mind to fragmentation…that is something I could live with…something I have experienced. I may do as I wish with my own mind," Leonard explained to them.

"And how do you expect you'll pull _that_ off?" Gwen asked, even though she already knew. Of _course_ she did. She knew what he was going to ask her to do, and a chill crept across her heart to think of it. "After all, the CIM mapping destroys the brain being modeled."

"That is where I require _your_ help, Gwen. I would need you to clone my brain in order for this to work," Leonard explained.

"Don't ask me to do that," Gwen said almost before he'd finished speaking. "I could flash clone any other part of you and it wouldn't matter, but to clone a human brain without special permission is illegal. After some of the things I've been hearing about the SPARTAN-IIs…what Halsey and the others might've done to achieve their own results…Leonard…you _can't_ ask me to do this. We'll become something we're not, and I don't want to see that happen," she pleaded with him.

"Say what you will about Catherine Halsey's methods, she has achieved something through her means. The Spartans are an exemplary breed of soldiers, as evidenced by our own Agent Maine. History may not remember her or us kindly, but that means little to me if I can stop even one more soldier from dying needlessly. Maybe the soldier's life we save will be Kathryn's, or David's. Do you want to send _them_ out to die when you know you have the means to stop it?" Leonard demanded, gaze snapping accusingly between the two of them as he slammed his hands down on the desk.

Gwen felt her shoulders begin to tremble at the insinuation. The only thing that kept her from outright breaking down was Ben's hand on her shoulder.

"Don't do that," Ben warned her fellow scientist. "Don't make it about whether or not we care about David and Kat. We'd give anything for those two and you _know_ it. Don't bring them into this. _Think_ about what you're asking her to do."

"Leonard," Gwen began shakily when her brother-in-law said nothing to Ben's words, "what happened to…your promise to us? You said…that you would use Ari…as the template for your AI. The CIM mapping was already done. It's ready to go right now. What you're suggesting could set the project back by a year or more. With the limited resources in medical, it will take at _least_ that long to cultivate a useable facsimile. Why take the risk at all?"

Leonard's expression grew sad at this. He removed his glasses and rubbed at the bridge of his nose for a moment before coming back around the desk to stand before them.

"I remember what was promised, Gwen. I do, believe me, but I would not subject even a shadow of Ari to what I know must be done with this construct. That's why it _has_ to be me. Sometimes we have to sacrifice smaller virtues to achieve great ones. Do you understand, Gwen?" he asked, slowly reaching up to grip her shoulders in his hands while looking steadily into her eyes.

For several long moments, the two of them just stood like that. Gwen knew her eyes were turning red with the force of the tears that were building up behind them, but she didn't care. She knew Leonard was right. He'd been right from the moment he'd suggested she could prevent someone else from dying. Her mind had been made up then, even if she hadn't wanted to admit it. When her beloved older sister had been fighting her way through the regions of hell, giving her life for the human race, Gwen had been safe and comfortable back on Earth. When Ari had been gunned down by the Insurrection, she hadn't been fast enough to take the bullet for him. She knew that Leonard felt just as guilty as she did for not being able to make the sacrifices Ari and Allison had made – that _Ben_ had made. The idea that she could make a difference, even if it was by doing something horrific – that was worth everything. Whatever happened, she was with him.

"No one…can know," she finally choked out as several tears escaped her eyes and slid down her cheeks. "No one can _ever_ find out about this."

"No one will. You have my word, Gwendolyn. If it comes down to it, you had nothing to do with this. This was all my doing," Leonard said as he stepped away from her.

"Gwen, are you _sure_ about this?" Ben pressed, moving in to support her when it seemed like she might collapse.

"I'm sure," she said with a small nod. "He's right. He's always right."

"Thank you for your vote of confidence, Doctor," Leonard said as he headed back to his desk to retrieve his glasses, slipping back into professional mode the moment he had them on. Shaking herself off as she moved away from Ben, the geneticist wiped her eyes before adjusting her own glasses.

"When do we begin?"

XxX

Wash figured they should probably have shut their lights off long ago, but staying up late with Maine was starting to become a bad habit of his. They didn't always talk. Sometimes they would just stay up, one reading and the other playing a game, or one messaging while the other got in a little extra exercise. The younger freelancer wasn't completely certain when they'd fallen into this little routine of theirs, but it was nice. It was different from barracks he'd shared with previous squads. In the weeks since the incident with Del, their silences had only managed to become more companionable, but now, listening to Maine tap out yet another message on his tablet, he suddenly found himself curious.

"Hey," he started as he set aside the puzzle device he'd been working on, rolling over on his small bunk so that he was propped up on his elbows. "Feel free to not answer this; it's none of my business, but…who is it you're always messaging?"

At this, Maine looked up at him, eyebrows raised in mild surprise. Then he glanced off to the side, answering with a single, quiet word.

"Sisters."

Wash sat up a little more at this, now more than a little confused. "You have sisters? I thought Spartans didn't have families. And…that…came out way more callous than I meant it. I am _so_ sorry," he said with a self-deprecating chuckle.

Maine's shoulders shook in his own brand of silent laughter as he settled his tablet in his lap. Then he began to clarify. "Don't have _parents._ Orphans. They recruited my division from overcrowded government orphanages. Had four sisters. I joined up for them. It was…the only thing I _could_ do," he explained.

"And…you kept in touch with them all that time?" Wash asked.

Maine shook his head. "No. SPARTAN didn't really encourage that sort of contact. Didn't start getting back in touch with them until the Director pulled me into Freelancer. Doing well these days. Roxy's Navy. Selina lives on Lazuli. She's a jeweler. Probably the only member of our family who didn't end up military," he said, the normally stoic look on his face shifting to something warmer as he spoke about his siblings.

"And…you said you had _four_ sisters?" Wash pressed when his bunkmate didn't continue. Honestly, he was amazed he'd gotten so many words from the man on a single topic, and he liked that little almost smile he could see on Maine's face. He wanted more of that.

What he got instead was a return to stoicism. Maine looked away from him again when he answered, "The twins…Astri and Estelle. They were ODST. They're dead."

Immediately, Wash's face fell. That had backfired in a rather unfortunate way. "I…damn. I'm sorry, Maine."

The Spartan shook his head, not quite meeting his gaze. "War. It happens. I didn't know them…not really."

"But they were your sisters," Wash supplied when the larger man didn't seem able to. Getting up from his bunk, he moved across the small space to sit on the floor beside Maine's bunk. Looking down at him, Maine tilted his head back questioningly.

"Siblings?" Maine asked him.

"Yeah. An older sister. Actually," Wash started, hesitating only a moment before deciding that, yes, it was all right to let Maine in on this one, "it's Carolina. Carolina's my big sister."

Maine's eyebrows rose briefly at this, but he ended up just nodding. After all, it made sense. It explained why the tough-as-nails Carolina seemed to be almost easy-going where the rookie was concerned. It wasn't as if they weren't letting siblings into the project. Though…didn't it just figure that the only two people aboard the _Mother of Invention_ who weren't scared to death of him were from the same family. Well, them and the Director, but he knew that man saw him as more a means to an end than anything else.

"Yeah," Wash responded to his head tilt and sideways glance. "She can be a bit of a hard ass, but…she was there for me, y'know? She was there when no one else was."

Again, Maine nodded his understanding. As the two of them continued to half talk about little things, unimportant details that made up their lives before the military, however short or long that time might have been, Wash found himself starting to think he had never properly introduced himself to his roommate. He knew the names of Maine's sisters, but not Maine's name. Not that he actually expected the man to give him a name if he told him his, more that it just seemed like the right thing to do to him. If Maine was all the name he ever got for his partner, that was just fine with him, but he suddenly wanted Maine to know the name his mother gave him.

"David," he said suddenly.

"Hmm?" Maine responded, blinking in confusion.

"My name is David. You don't have to do anything with that; I just…wanted you to know," he offered up with a lame shrug and a tired smile.

"Matthias-A223," Maine answered without thought, immediately snapping back to the days when a superior officer would ask for his designation. Instead of receiving an 'as you were', though, he just got a look of utter confusion from Wash – David?

"My…designation," he tried to explain once he'd gotten out of the mindset that he'd done something wrong. "Spartan designation. My name is…Matthias," he answered slowly, the words feeling strange in his mouth without the number attached.

"Matthias," he said again, more to himself than to Wash, only looking up again when he noticed his roommate was smiling.

"Matthias," Wash repeated for himself. "Not that I'm gonna go around using it or anything, but do you prefer the whole thing or just Matt?"

Thinking about it, Maine didn't really want Wash using Matthias. It didn't sound quite right coming from him. Matt, though – there _was_ something right-sounding about that. He might not even mind if Wash did use it from time to time.

"Matt," he said decisively.

"All right then. Nice to meet you, Matt," Wash said, reaching out to shake his hand. After staring at the offered hand for a moment, Maine reached out to take it, shaking firmly, but reminding himself not to grip too tightly.

"Hello…David."

XxX

Maine had never paid attention when his fellow freelancers did movie nights in the past. Carolina sometimes mentioned that it was happening, but he'd never really felt the need to see what it was about. Outside of training, he'd never had much of a desire to seek out the company of the other agents.

Therefore, when he'd returned to his and Wash's room that night and Wash had insisted they needed to go to the rec room, he'd been a little suspicious, but he'd gone along with it anyway. He liked being around Wash and if he had to endure the company of the other freelancers in order for that to happen, he was willing to go through with it.

The other agents had formed the three old couches and the pair of armchairs into a sort of semi-circle around the ancient plasma screen that took up one of the rec room's walls. Some of the older agents weren't there, like Del, Utah, CO, and Iowa, but Wyoming and Florida were in attendance. Wyoming sat in one of the chairs while Florida actually perched on top of it, almost like a big cat. Carolina and York occupied the second chair, cuddled up very close together. North and Gin were sitting on one couch while South, Mitch, and Connie were sprawled all over the second one. Agent Missouri, or Missie, as she was mostly called, was sitting at the very end of the last couch with her roommate, Indiana, situated comfortably at her feet. This left just enough space for Maine and Wash to squeeze onto the couch, sitting very close together.

"So what are we watching tonight?" Wash asked the group at large, hardly seeming to notice just how close the two of them were sitting.

"You won't believe it, but it was Florida's turn to pick tonight. We are going to be watching Lion King," North informed them.

"You're welcome," Florida said with an amiable grin. "I'm a firm believer in keeping one's inner child alive and active."

"No way," Wash said with a grin of his own, shaking his head. "I haven't seen that one in years. How long do I have to work here before I get a say in what we do on movie night?"

"Few more months yet, little chap," Wyoming informed him. "First we'll see if you make it through the induction months."

"After all, let's not go forgetting that Maine's still got four more months to put the rookie in the hospital," South reminded them before having a pillow thrown at her by Maine, which Mitch caught and tossed to Gin. Connie just shook her head, already contentedly chowing down on a bowl of popcorn.

"Oh, right. Before I forget," Wash started, quickly reaching into the pocket of his sweatpants to pull something from it. Maine found himself salivating almost immediately upon realizing the item was half a Cadbury bar. Grinning at him, Wash broke the candy bar down the middle, passing one half to him while keeping the other for himself.

Taking a moment to savor his first bite of chocolate, Maine eventually bumped Wash's knee to get his attention, nodding toward the screen with a questioning look.

"What? The movie?" Wash asked when the light finally went on in his head. Maine nodded. "Wait. You've _never_ seen Lion King before?"

Maine shook his head.

"Have you seen _any_ Disney movies? Toy Story? East? Robin Hood? Beauty and the Beast?"

Maine shook his head each time. Beauty and the Beast sounded vaguely familiar, like he might've seen it in the days before SPARTAN, but that was about it.

"Well, we are definitely gonna have to change that," Wash said with a decisive nod. Indiana, or Dee, laughed as she tossed her ginger braid over her shoulder.

"Let me know if you watch Wreck-it Ralph. I wanna know what the big guy thinks of it," she said, rolling nimbly away before Maine could deliver an annoyed kick to her hip.

"The Spartan watching cartoons? I'm almost amazed the man doesn't kill you for the suggestion," Missie said serenely. Like her roommate, she had red hair, but hers was a much darker color, more like Carolina's. But instead of keeping it tied back like the other two, her hair seemed to be everywhere, draping like a cape round her shoulders.

"Missie?" Wash started before Maine could get any more annoyed. "I can't keep it straight. Are you Mississippi or Missouri?"

"Missouri, kiddo," she answered with a chuckle. "Mississippi's dead. He died like five months ago. The last five or so agents didn't last very long, so I guess we'll see how you do," she finished, and Maine couldn't help noticing the sudden predatory bend to her gaze on Wash. Given the wily agent's history, the Spartan found that the notion of what that look implied chafed at his nerves in a much harsher way than simple annoyance. It wasn't exactly anger, either. What _was_ this feeling?

Left confused by whatever strange emotion was suddenly eating at his gut, Maine opted not to lash out at Missie for the implication that Wash wasn't good enough to stay alive. Instead, he popped another square of Cadbury into his mouth, trying to concentrate on the flavor as the movie finally started to play.

Mostly, he found himself having trouble getting into the old-fashioned 2D style of animation. The only times he found he was actually interested in the story were when the darker lion was on the screen – Scar. He wasn't sure why, but the character left more of a bad taste in his mouth than one might expect from a cartoon character. What he really enjoyed about the movie was how much Wash liked it. The younger freelancer would occasionally chuckle or quote the lines with the characters, sometimes even sing with them – awkwardly and not very well, but it didn't matter because he was having fun.

Further into the movie, though, Wash started to wind down. By the time Simba and Nala started to sing together after being apart for so many years, he was falling asleep, head bumping sporadically against Maine's shoulder as he half-sang with the song.

_Can you feel the love tonight?_

_The peace the evening brings._

_The world, for once, in perfect harmony_

_With all its living things._

The younger agent didn't manage to finish the song. By the time it was over, he was completely out, head resting easily against Maine. The Spartan didn't really see the rest of the movie, as he was just a little too aware of the soft feel of his partner's blond hair against his skin. Uncertain of what to do, he let his hand rest against Wash's knee, remaining still so as not to wake him. Yet another thing he couldn't fathom was the faint feeling of heat on his face. He couldn't understand why. He was down to just sweatpants and a shirt and the rec room wasn't any hotter than normal. Shaking his head minutely, Maine just sat there, taking in the feel of Wash against him.

During the closing credits, while the other freelancers were shifting and starting to talk and move around, Maine happened to catch Carolina looking at the two of them with an unasked question in her eyes – almost like they were a puzzle she was trying to work out the answer to. And when a look of understanding finally lit her eyes, Maine just found himself even more confused than he had been all night.

Instead of trying to understand, he just put his focus back on Wash, enjoying the few still moments he had before he would have to start moving and waking his roommate up.

XxX

Not that Wash was complaining or anything, but he'd sort of thought his first official mission for Project Freelancer would be…well…a little more dangerous.

Intelligence had received word of a cell passing Covenant tech to the Insurrection and they'd been ordered to go in and bust up the operation, maybe bring in a few of the lowlifes for questioning. Wash supposed he'd just been expecting a bit more of a fight, not this palms up, 'we surrender' bull.

CO had infiltrated first with Carolina, York, and Iowa. York had gotten their group through most of the security doors, but had accidentally set off an alarm two doors out from the base's central command, so Wash's group had needed to move in to assist with the ensuing firefight. Of course, eight freelancers versus a gang of about twenty hired thugs could hardly be considered a fight.

After watching the first wave of their buddies get thoroughly trounced by the highly trained military operatives, the rest had simply surrendered, throwing down their weapons and allowing themselves to be put in handcuffs. CO had led his group on to secure the boss while Maine and Wash were left behind to guard the prisoners while Connie and Kansas did another sweep to make sure their perimeter was secure.

Wash hadn't realized he was whistling until he felt the muzzle of a rifle tap his shoulder. He was halfway to aiming at his new opponent before he realized it was just Maine, whose shoulders shook in his signature silent laugh as the newest freelancer turned to face him.

"Bored?" the Spartan asked, tilting his head back in imitation of raising an eyebrow.

"No, not- bored, exactly," Wash near squeaked. "Just…underwhelmed, I guess is the right word. I suppose I expected things to be a little different in a top-secret military organization. I went from facing down Sanghelli warriors to taking down small time crime bosses. Guess I'm just wondering what our deal is," he said as he moved to have a look down the corridor group A had disappeared down ten minutes ago.

"Better not- _Wash!_ "

From the moment Wash heard his partner's shouted warning, time seemed to slow for him. As he turned to aim his weapon back into the storage area, he heard the sound of gunfire. Too late he saw a rifle sight pointed at his head from among the rows of crates and before he could get off a shot of his own, he heard the sound of a bullet piercing flesh.

His first thought was that he'd been shot, but it wasn't until he realized he felt no pain that he comprehended exactly why that was.

He felt no pain because he hadn't been hit, and he hadn't been hit because Maine was standing in front of him. Having seen the shooter in enough time, his partner had moved to stand between them, taking the bullet for him.

"Maine!" Wash shouted, leaving himself only a moment to feel the shock and see the red spatter of blood along his partner's armor before setting his own sights on the sniper, putting a bullet directly through the visor of his helmet.

He waited just long enough to see his enemy fall before turning his attention back to Maine, who had dropped to one knee. Wash was only slightly relieved when he saw the blood trickling from between the armor plates on the larger man's left arm.

"Control is secure," Carolina's voice suddenly came over the comm channel. "How are we looking out there?"

"Perimeter secure," Kansas reported back, "but I don't think these two apes I found will be of much use for interrogation. Actually, they may not be of much use for speaking ever again. Sorry."

"You should've secured that perimeter better," Wash snapped over the channel as he began to strip the armor from the larger man's arm, choosing to forget the sense of unease Kansas' words had left. "Maine is hit."

"How bad?" CO's voice demanded over the line.

"Left arm," Maine reported tersely, resisting the urge to push Wash away. "Small caliber."

"Holy shit, man. You can tell that just from feeling it in your arm?" York's voice joined in.

"Not now, York," Wash snapped, actually _snapped,_ at his sister's boyfriend.

"Are you still under fire?" Iowa asked, a note of worry in her voice.

"No. Threat was neutralized," Wash reported, pulling off Maine's left glove before beginning to peel back the layer of his body suit.

"Then hold your position. Do what you can. We'll regroup in ten minutes," CO ordered.

"Dammit, Maine," Wash hissed once the conversation had finished, still working to expose the wound. "Why the fuck did you _do_ that?"

"It's not bad," the Spartan insisted.

"Not what I asked," Wash pointed out roughly.

Maine looked away from him at this, pulling his arm free of Wash's grip before he could fully expose the bullet wound. His growled response of, "Couldn't let you get hurt," barely registered in Wash's head. What he _did_ make note of were Maine's next words.

"Not bored anymore?"

"Dammit, Maine," Wash repeated, feeling guilt claw at his heart, as if this were somehow _his_ fault for thinking the assignment too easy.

"All right?" Maine asked him.

"All…fucking Christ, man. Of _course_ I'm all right," he groaned in frustration, briefly ceasing his attempt to reclaim the man's arm. Looking away from him, he muttered, "Thanks."

"Hmm?"

"Thanks!" Wash repeated much louder, but then quiet again. "Th- thanks…big guy. Would've been dead without you."

"Anytime," Maine returned, both knowing they were doing it for the comfort of the now familiar words and not how true they actually were.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, interesting thing happened this weekend. I think my song for MaineWash just became 'If I Can't Love Her' from the Beauty and the Beast musical. Just have a major Beauty and the Beast vibe with these two anyway and then this song happened.
> 
> A few notes to leave you with here. I do know the timeline is wrong here for when the Director made the decision to fragment Alpha, as Epsilon told us he got the idea from Beta's creation, but I'm just gonna tweak it a little bit here. The other note is that if you've read my story 'Blood Moon', then you're already familiar with the character of Missie. You just know her by a different name. ;)
> 
> And on that note, I will leave you. We'll dig further into this whole bullet issue next time.


	4. I'm Not Moving On

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Season 14 to one and to all…y'know, despite how messed up it is just four episodes in. I'm so sorry this update took so long, but of course, I do prefer to have both chapters for this pair ready before doing anything with them. Plus, as any of you who read 'Through Steam and Frost' will know, 2016 has been a tough year so far. But in the end, there's always our dear fandom to come back to. I hope everyone enjoys!

"Well, Agent Washington, is our program interesting enough for you now? After all, it was due to your negligence that Agent Maine was injured in the first place," the Director snapped at him.

Wash winced as he listened to his father go on. It wasn't as if he wasn't used to it. Dad lectures were a common enough occurrence in his younger years, but it was a slightly different situation to have it occurring in a more professional setting without either of them acknowledging their actual relationship. Carolina had warned him it would take some getting used to, especially when the man was angry, but Wash supposed he was at least a little relieved he wouldn't have to sit through the 'I'm your father' card.

"I'm very sorry, Sir," Wash ground out, less interested with the reprimand and more interested in getting back to Recovery to see how Maine was doing. "In fairness, I really thought we'd cleared the area."

"Fairness, agent? What about my project suggested to you it was run on fairness? This is not a democracy. You don't get to _decide_ whether you did something wrong or not. That decision is with _me,_ as is fit punishment for your actions, or should I say _in_ action?" the Director demanded as he stood from his desk, moving around it to get right up in Wash's face.

"Not to bring up fairness again, Sir, but the rest of us are just as much at fault for missing the sniper on our initial run," CO pointed out. "It seems to me if you're going to punish Agent Washington for this, that the rest of the team should share in that punishment."

"It is not, I think, the Director's intent to punish for the failure itself," the Counselor stepped in, "but rather for the state of mind leading up to it. After all, it is not prudent for our agents to be treating these assignments as anything less than serious."

"It was his first mission."

"Which is why the lesson must be learned _now._ "

"You know what, Price, if you're gonna come down so hard on my guy, I can't do anything less than-"

CO and the Counselor continued to argue, but Wash didn't really hear what they were saying. He was too intent on his dad staring him down, gaze boring directly through his visor and into the heart of him, letting him know that he'd been judged and had once again been found lacking. He wasn't enough. He was _never_ enough. And because of that, Maine was-

"I'm sorry!" he finally burst out, interrupting whatever argument had still been going between CO and the Counselor. "Sorry I'm a rookie. Sorry I was an idiot. I'm just- _really sorry._ Believe me, Sir, you can't make me feel worse about this than I already do. My partner took a bullet meant for me. There's really no worse feeling than knowing you screwed up that badly. Maine's hurt, and I just…I'm sorry I'm not what you wanted…Sir," he finished, the last barely more than a whisper.

At this, his father's eyes widened subtly, and though Wash couldn't be sure what, he saw something shift in that gaze. Before he could discern more, though, the Director looked away from him, quickly moving back around his desk.

"You're dismissed, Agent Washington. We'll discuss your punishment later."

"Yes, Sir," Wash said, snapping briefly to attention before turning and near bolting from the office. He didn't stop until he was several corridors away. Leaning heavily against the wall, he took a moment to rein in his breathing. Confronting the old man was always so much of a battle, no matter what the issue was. In many ways, it was worse than anything he'd ever faced during his time in the Corps. He could just never really be sure where he stood with his father, and now it was only going to get more confusing.

"David?" he suddenly heard his aunt's voice over his comm channel. "David, are you receiving me?"

"Y- yeah," he mumbled vaguely in surprise as he stood up. "How'd you know I'd still be in armor?"

"After a meeting with your father, I thought you might be, so I figured I'd chance it."

"How's Maine?"

"He's doing fine. They brought him out of surgery about ten minutes ago. He's in Recovery now if you want to come see him."

"I'll be right there," he barely managed to respond before taking off like a shot. He didn't really remember his sprint down to Medical, so it was entirely possible he may have bowled over a few people on his way down. He didn't care. He was just relieved to see Maine sitting up on one of the cots, his left arm bandaged and situated in a sling.

"Are you all right?" Wash demanded as he clattered to a stop just short of crashing into the cot. The Spartan raised an eyebrow at him in a clear expression of 'seriously?'.

"Already told you it wasn't bad," Maine said as he shook his head. "I'll just be off the roster a week or so. Gonna take a lot more than this to kill me."

"You'd better be right about that," Wash said as he pulled a chair up to the cot and sat next to his partner. "Especially if you insist on staying partnered with the team klutz."

"Can't think of any particular reason I shouldn't," Maine said with a shrug, wincing only slightly at the small movement of his left arm.

"Hey, don't move that," Wash scolded mildly as he pulled his helmet off. "Anything I can get you? I don't think the mess is open for dinner just yet, but…I dunno, I can always hold the staff at gunpoint or something crazy like that," he mumbled without really thinking about it.

Maine had to stop himself from laughing at that one. "That I might like to see. Don't need to go that crazy, though. I'll settle for your desserts for the week."

"Sure. Anything you want, big guy."

Both of Maine's eyebrows rose. "Well, that was easy. I should take bullets for you more often."

"Don't even joke about that shit, Matt," Wash said sharply, eyes hardening for a moment as he stared down his partner. "Nobody's dying for me. Not me. That's bullshit."

At this, Maine's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean 'not you'?"

"N- nothing," Wash said as he turned away, shaking his head. "I've just had enough of people dying."

There was a long silence following this, in which Wash could practically feel Maine wanting to press him for more information, but was grateful when he didn't. The Spartan finally gave a deprecating chuckle.

"There's a chance you might be in the wrong business, Wash."

The younger agent managed a small laugh at this, delivering what could hardly be considered a punch to his partner's good shoulder.

"Discussion of my poor life choices aside…anything else I can do for you?"

Maine seemed to think about it for a moment before nodding. "Yeah. I wanna watch those Disney movies you've been talking about."

Wash blinked several times in confusion. "What?"

"Gonna need _something_ to do while I'm out of the loop. Seems as good a time as any to get caught up."

Wash tilted his head to the side for several minutes before finally shrugging and offering his roommate a tired smile. "Sure. Why the hell not. Your wish is my command."

"I'll keep that in mind."

XxX

As Maine had expected, he was consigned to bed rest for the next week while his arm healed. The Director's punishment for Wash was to remove him from active duty until further notice. So when Wash wasn't on the training floor, the two roommates were just holed up in their bunk, crowded around Maine's tablet and watching movies.

The morning had been dedicated to newer films, The Witch's Daughter and Spinner's End, but after a hard day in the training room, Wash had decided he was in more of a classics mood, so he'd pulled up a much older one called Sleeping Beauty.

Maine barely remembered the fairy tale from the time before SPARTAN. Certain points sparked familiarity in his mind, but for him, seeing an evil fairy curse a baby princess with sleeping death was almost like experiencing the story for the first time. It was strange, but the simple tale was actually keeping his attention better than the more complex stories of the other movies. It had been so long since he'd heard a simple fairy tale.

"Seriously?" he muttered to the tablet in his lap as the fairies plotted the best way to help the baby Aurora. "What kind of bitch picks on a helpless little baby?"

"The kind who earns her place as one of fiction's top villains," Wash said with a small laugh. "But yeah, Maleficent's fucking harsh. Kinda how she keeps her reputation even after a few centuries."

"Still," Maine started to comment as he watched the characters move through the richly painted backgrounds, having developed a bit more appreciation for the style over the past few movies, "crazy how much detail they can get into everything. You said they used to do this all by hand?"

"Uh-huh," Wash said, nodding as he scooted a little closer on Maine's cot. "You can actually see all the leaves on the goddamn trees. I don't even wanna think about how many hours that takes, but all the old ones were done like that. They stopped doing it for a while, but then it came back in a big way about a hundred years ago. That's when Spinner's End got made. I think my favorite movies from that period are the Zorro trilogy they did, so we definitely have to watch those next."

"Take a breath there, Wash," Maine ribbed before the younger freelancer could launch into full on ramble. "Think maybe we should finish the movie that's on first."

"Sure. Right," Wash said, and the pair quickly fell back into their easy, companionable silence, though Maine would be lying if he said he wasn't aware of just how close the two of them were sitting.

"That was fast," Maine commented when Aurora and Phillip began to dance for the first time.

"Still better than the story it's based on. In that version, Aurora didn't even know the guy who woke her up. Didn't see a lot of popular entertainment in SPARTAN, I gather?" Wash asked, and from the shift in the sound, Maine could tell he'd turned to look at him.

"No," Maine answered absently, avoiding looking at Wash and keeping his focus on the screen – on the two dancing figures. "Everything was military. We were raised to be soldiers – perfect soldiers. Anything else was…unneeded."

"Jeez," Wash mumbled. "I mean…I'd heard the rumors, but…I dunno. I guess I just can't get my head around it. Living for only one purpose like that."

"No greater purpose," Maine said quietly, still keeping his eyes fixed on the movie. "No greater duty than to serve…to fight for humanity's survival. Wasn't a one of us that didn't choose it. It's…what we were _for_ …what _I'm_ for," he tried to explain, though he didn't know if he had any hope of making Wash understand it. His bunkmate had proved better able to understand him than anyone outside of his company so far, but he didn't know if he could make the younger man understand what he was at his core.

"Well…I guess there really _is_ no greater purpose than that," Wash conceded. "But…what are the Spartans supposed to do when the war's over…when we _have_ survived?"

Maine shook his head, almost afraid to look at Wash now. "Never thought about it. Does it…really happen like that?" he asked, a little less intent now that the fairies were back onscreen.

"Huh?" Wash started in total confusion.

"Sleeping Beauty. Do people really fall in love so fast?" he asked, finally glancing sideways at his partner.

"Oh, the movie. Heheh, a little context would've been nice for that one, man. But no. _Hell_ no. Might decide they wanna get it on that fast, but love? That's a completely different ballpark. You've…never been in love?"

Maine raised an eyebrow sharply at the shorter man, knowing he would need little more than that, and indeed, Wash started to laugh self-deprecatingly after a few moments.

"Okay, yeah. Stupid question. Guess that wasn't encouraged either."

"You?" Maine asked, not really sure what made him ask. After all, it wasn't _his_ business.

"Me?" Wash returned, voice rising marginally in pitch as his pale skin went slightly red beneath his freckles. "Well…I had a girlfriend once, but that never went anywhere. And there was this thing back in my squad, but…no. I've never…seen much good come from love…not that kind of love anyway."

Maine wasn't sure what he meant by that and he didn't really know how to ask about it, so he decided to let it go for the time being. He'd already told Wash more than he'd ever told anyone else. It was unreasonable to expect the same from him, no matter how much easier things had been since the incident with Del.

He had no idea why, but he actually liked talking to Wash. On his fireteam, he'd become so used to communicating in nonverbal ways that words felt strange in his mouth when he'd been pulled from Alpha Company. But with Wash, he almost couldn't stop the words from coming whenever they were alone together. He enjoyed seeing the way his partner reacted to each little thing he said, and he couldn't for the life of him understand _why._ There was no logical reason for him to like Wash as much as he did, but he did just the same, and there was little point to questioning it because…he felt not angry. He didn't really know how to classify the emotion, but for the first time since being reassigned, he felt something other than anger and isolation…and that something came from Wash.

The conversation had fallen off as the pair had turned their attention back to the movie, and it must have been a _very_ long day on the training room floor, because Wash was beginning to nod off, just like he had during The Lion King. Maine found he couldn't help the small smile that stretched across his face as Wash's head began to bump against his good shoulder. By the time Aurora had succumbed to Maleficent's curse, Wash had succumbed to sleep himself, curled up beside Maine on the small cot with his head resting easily against the larger freelancer's leg.

As the fairies put the rest of the kingdom to sleep, Maine found himself more drawn by the sight of his sleeping partner. Watching the young man sleep, he found the words of the song subtly tugging at his subconscious mind.

_Sleeping Beauty fair_

_Gold of sunshine in your hair_

_Lips that shame the red, red rose_

_Dreaming of true love in slumber repose_

Well, lips red as the rose was a little weird, but gold of sunshine Wash definitely had. Maine had managed to admit to himself that he found his partner attractive, which was not a term he was used to thinking in, but for some reason it seemed to apply to Wash. While his lips certainly weren't red, they did look very soft. What would it be like…to kiss those lips?

At the thought, Maine felt his face heating up. It was a blush, he had to remind himself – mostly connected with feeling embarrassed or ashamed. Why should he be ashamed of feeling desire for Wash? True he'd only ever felt it once or twice before, so maybe it was different because Wash was his friend and he didn't want to take advantage – didn't want to risk ruining the one good thing he'd found outside of SPARTAN. Whatever it was, he couldn't quite help himself when he let a hand slip forward to stroke a single flyaway lock of the younger freelancer's hair back into place. The strand of hair was soft against the hardened pads of his fingertips. Was the rest of his bunkmate just as soft or were there surprises to be found?

Scolding himself for the thought, Maine withdrew his hand. He kept perfectly still so that Wash could sleep, leaning back against the wall of their small bunk and letting the movie play out, finally witnessing the long-awaited kiss between Phillip and Aurora. Maine was surprised to acknowledge a strange fluttering sensation in his heart when his thoughts turned back to Wash.

Shaking his head, Maine shut the tablet down and set it aside before leaning back against the wall, perfectly content to share his bed with Wash. After all, he didn't want to wake him. So the Spartan drifted off to sleep in just that position with his partner's head pillowed against his thigh.

He knew something was different. He just wasn't really sure what.

XxX

As a Spartan, Maine tended to recover from injury very quickly. He didn't need the full week of bed rest he'd been confined to, but one could hardly blame the _Mother of Invention_ medics, who were used to dealing with purely human soldiers. Whatever their limitations in regards to his treatment, orders were orders, and the supersoldier was required to keep away from the training room during that time. Wash and Disney could only keep him occupied for so long before he started to get anxious for physical activity. As such, most of the agents assigned to spar with him on his first day back on the roster tried every trick they knew in order to get out of it. But as always, the Director was unrelenting.

"Wonder how it's going," Wash couldn't quite help commenting as he and Carolina headed into the locker room.

"You know, you _can_ go watch if you want," his sister pointed out. "We're not up for another hour."

"Probably not a good idea. Maine said he 'didn't want me to see this.' I still have no idea if he was being serious or not," Wash said with a nervous shrug.

"Well, I guess you _are_ the only one he might joke with," Carolina said with a small snicker. "I take it he's been going stir crazy these last few days."

"Jesus Christ, you have _no idea,_ " Wash said with an exaggerated roll of his head. "There was only so much I could do to keep him entertained."

"Oh? Is that so?" Carolina pressed, leaning in a little closer.

Wash leaned back from his sibling, practically seeing the knowing smirk beneath her faceplate. "Don't look at me like that, Kat," he warned her.

"Like what, _David?_ " she asked, drawing his name out as only a big sister could. "I'm not looking at you like anything. Even if I was, you wouldn't know. What is it I'm supposed to be looking at you like? Enlighten me, baby brother," she said, starting in with the teasing that only came out when none of the other project members were around.

"You're looking at me like you did after military ball sophomore year."

"While I neither confirm nor deny such an expression is currently on my face, of course it would have been back then. Your darling baby brother losing his virginity is a big deal," she explained, crossing her arms.

"Did you just say darling?" he asked, tilting his head to the side.

"Don't change the subject."

"What subject were we on again?" he asked, looking away from her.

"You're not going to pull _that_ one on me. We were on the subject of what you had to do to keep Maine _entertained,_ " she said, proving she was not to be deterred.

"Don't do that," he near-growled, head snapping back in her direction.

"What?"

"Imply that there's something going on between Maine and me. There's not. He's my partner…my friend. He doesn't see me that way," Wash said, unable to keep back the small note of bitterness.

"You know that for a fact, do you?"

"Of course I do. He's _Maine_ …and I'm just…me," he mumbled with a frustrated wave of his hands.

"To say nothing of how _you_ feel about _him._ "

Wash blinked for several moments before looking at his sister again. "What do you-"

Before he could finish, the newest freelancer was suddenly tackled to the floor by a red and gray blur crying out, "Save me, gatito!"

"Mitch! What the fuck?" Wash demanded as he tried to disentangle himself from his new barnacle, but Mitch wouldn't be dislodged. She continued to cling to him.

"I'm princesa's next sparring partner!" she mock whined. "A: he hates me, and B: he's killing people today. Dee, Reggie, Gin, _and_ South are _all_ in the med bay now. Me he'll kill on purpose. I don't wanna die. Hay muerte! Hay muerte! Please switch with me, gatito. I'm on my _knees_ here!"

"You know, you probably should've thought about all this _before_ you pinned the undead Spartan with a nickname like princesa," Carolina pointed out, shaking her head as she chuckled to herself. "Maine doesn't really like a lot of people to begin with. You just kept digging yourself deeper. Besides, am I basically hearing you say you'd rather fight _me?_ "

"Much rather," Mitch said, nodding as Wash continued his fruitless struggle to peel her from his armor. "You'll wipe the floor with me, sure, but at least I'll still be alive at the end of it."

Carolina seemed to think about this for a moment before ultimately shrugging. "Fair enough. Really, I'm good with it either way. Wash?"

"What?" Wash couldn't quite keep the petulant whine out of his voice. "Aren't you even going to help me out here, Carolina?"

"Agent Washington to the training room floor. Agent Washington to the training room floor," F.I.L.S.S. voice came over the comm system.

"Uh-oh. Looks like it's not up to me. We'd better get down there," Carolina said.

"Well, shit," Wash muttered as Mitch finally released him.

It took them no more than a few minutes to make their way to the training room. Just outside the doors, they found the Director and the Counselor waiting for them. The Director shook his head as they approached.

"And once again, Counselor, your projections were proven correct."

"What projections?" Wash asked as he glanced between the two of them.

"When paired to fight against Agent Maine on a day when he hasn't been able to help but put each previous opponent in the med bay, Agent Michigan sought out the place she felt she would be safest from him, and as has come to be well known among the crew complement of this ship, that place is standing behind _you,_ Agent Washington," the Counselor explained.

"Me?" Wash repeated skeptically. "Why? Because I'm the only person who doesn't piss him off?"

Mitch actually snorted at this, though she still maintained said place behind him. "Yeah, sure. Let's go with that."

Wash was about to turn around and give her what for, but was interrupted by the Counselor's next words.

"So, Agent Michigan, are we quite finished with this childish behavior now that we've gotten you back? Are you prepared for your spar with Agent Maine?"

"H-hey, no need to be hasty here. Wash was cool with switching with me. He can take the arena with Maine and I'll do it with Carolina. Take that however you want," she couldn't seem to help adding.

"I don't recall agreeing to that one," Wash pointed out.

"And I don't care if you agreed to it or not, Wash," Carolina suddenly stepped in, an edge of her own personal blend of excited anger running through her voice. "I'm starting to think Mitch is intentionally asking for it. Who am I to refuse an invitation to dance?"

"It would be an excellent opportunity to observe Agent Maine's responses," the Counselor pointed out to the Director. "He believes he'll be engaging in a knockout match with Agent Michigan and is instead confronted with Agent Washington."

"Oh, come on. Seriously? That's a dick move. His first day back on the roster?" Wash tried to argue, completely forgoing even an attempt at professionalism in favor of defending his partner.

His father shot a glare at him in reprimand for the lapse, shaking his head before sliding his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. "We will proceed with your suggestion, Counselor. It would serve _both_ agents to be reminded to think on their feet."

"But-"

"We _will_ proceed," the Director repeated over his protest. "Is that understood, Agent Washington?"

Wash gritted his teeth together, hastily biting back an angry response. It wouldn't help either him or Maine to argue with the man.

"Agent Washington?"

"Understood…Sir."

XxX

In fairness, Maine rarely _tried_ to put his fellow agents in the med bay. More often, it was by accident. It was a less common occurrence since the project scientists had managed to generate a serviceable version of his MJOLNIR armor that the others could wear without the need for the augmentations he had, but it still happened. And now, after a week of being unable to work off his own energy, he'd simply forgotten how to pull his punches with the others.

None of the earlier matches had lasted very long. Maine just hadn't been able to hold back from his normal powerhouse style. He'd be lying, though, if he said he wasn't looking forward to pounding on Mitch just a little bit. As such, he was all the more surprised when the training room doors opened to reveal not Mitch, but Wash.

The shorter man shrugged apologetically as he moved toward him. "Sorry, big guy. Mitch chickened out. She convinced them to switch us up."

What was it? Did they want to see how he'd react? Whether he'd lay into Wash or not? Was Price making some kind of bid to win that pot on a day when Maine was less than in control? What was supposed to be happening here?

 _Get ahold of yourself, Spartan-A223. This shouldn't rattle you,_ he scolded himself, trying to recapture his old discipline. If he were honest, he'd very much let himself go in that regard these last few years. Trying to rein himself in, he offered Wash a shrug of his own as he dropped into a battle ready stance. Wash tilted his head to the side as he mirrored the stance.

"Hey," the younger man started, "it's just another night in the locker room, yeah?"

 _Right,_ Maine tried to reassure himself.

"The next match is Agent Maine vs. Agent Washington. Good luck, agents," F.I.L.S.S.'s unfailingly even tone sounded over the comm system. The dumb AI's annoying calm caused a brief spike of anger to flare up in Maine, which he quickly got a lid on. He definitely didn't need anger right now.

Instead of charging forward when F.I.L.S.S. gave the signal, Maine began to circle, and rather than holding to see what he'd do, Wash also mirrored the move.

Maine didn't mark how long the two of them circled each other. He just kept his focus on his partner, watching every inch of him for subtle signs of movement, hints as to his intentions. But Wash had learned well from him these last few months. He gave nothing away, just continued the same circling motion, waiting for Maine to make a move.

However, the rookie did slip eventually, making a barely noticeable shift to his right and feinting a change of direction. Maine pounced on the move, jumping to Wash's left in a bid to end things quickly. But Wash actually fooled him, the feint to his right becoming an actual move that allowed him to sidestep Maine's strike and deliver a hard blow to his midsection.

Maine grunted as he stumbled several steps back from the blow, looking back at his partner in amazement. Wash tilted his head to the side again and fuck him if Maine couldn't just imagine the playful grin beneath that faceplate.

"Again?" Wash suggested in a playful voice.

 **You shifty bastard,** Maine sent the message to the other man's HUD, easily shaking himself off as they began to circle again.

"Wanna try me again?" Wash suggested over their personal channel. "I'm not made of glass, y'know."

Maine found himself shuddering mildly at the words, wondering if Wash knew just what that invitation sounded like. After all, the younger agent couldn't _imagine_ how much Maine wanted to 'try him.' Instead, he just responded with, **You'd be surprised.** Then he launched himself at his partner again, not giving him the opportunity to sidestep.

The two of them traded blows for several minutes, Maine being careful not to put his full strength behind any of his strikes and feeling proud whenever Wash managed to land a decent blow. Despite the fact that he couldn't let loose completely, the Spartan actually found himself enjoying their back and forth. He wouldn't know it, but those observing the fight, to a one, would have described it as almost dance-like.

" _Harder!_ " Wash suddenly demanded, delivering a punch to the side of his head that sent the supersoldier to his knees, so caught off guard was he by the tone of his partner's voice.

"I can take it, Maine," the other agent's voice came over the channel as Maine blocked his next blow, heavy and intense. "Don't hold back."

Rather than redirect the force of the punch, Maine took it to himself, keeping ahold of Wash's fist and pulling him close as he moved easily to his feet. Briefly, he held his partner in that position, their faceplates not even an inch apart.

"We'll see," he hissed breathily over the channel before bodily lifting the other freelancer and throwing him across the floor.

Wash landed several feet away with what could only be described as a squeak. Maine was on him in a heartbeat, crouching low over him as he jammed a knee between the younger man's legs. Slamming his shoulder harshly against the floor with one hand, he raised the other over Wash's head in a fist, knowing he could easily snap his partner's neck with the force he could put behind such a blow. But the savagery of the pose was forgotten the moment he heard Wash _gasp_ over the channel.

A sound of pain or fear he would've understood, but this sound almost had an air of…excitement to it. It caused his grip on Wash's shoulder to shift from harsh to something gentle. Then he felt Wash's gloved hand at his hip and he inhaled sharply himself. Had they not both been in full armor, he honestly had no idea what might have happened next.

They were both finally snapped out of the moment by the sound of F.I.L.S.S.'s voice overhead.

"Match to Agent Maine. Thank you for your participation, agents."

"Heheh…whoa," Wash chuckled breathily as Maine finally pulled away from him. "That was intense."

"Still think you can handle it?" Maine asked, trying to keep his voice light, but there was definitely an undercurrent of fear and desire that he couldn't completely control. He didn't immediately get to his feet, just crouched a foot or two away from Wash as the other agent sat up.

"I don't know," Wash said as he sat up. It couldn't be seen beneath his armor, but Maine could tell by the tone of his voice that he was shaking. "I'm willing to try, though."

And at that, Maine had no idea if they were still talking about sparring…or about something else entirely. He felt need pumping through his veins with every pull of blood from his heart, along with something else he couldn't identify. He was almost afraid of what might happen when he reached a hand forward to grip Wash's, allowing them both to get to their feet. Once they were both standing, Maine held on a little longer than was strictly necessary, unable to do anything but stare at his partner.

"Agent Maine evaluation matches completed. Agent Carolina and Agent Michigan on deck," F.I.L.S.S. announced. When the two women entered the training room, they moved past the frozen agents. Mitch gave Wash a good dig in the shoulder.

"Good show, gatito. _Really_ good," she drawled on her way by.

"Right. Sure," Wash mumbled, finally seeming to come to. When he started to move off the floor, Maine was helpless to do much of anything but follow him.

"I think I'm gonna hit the showers," Wash said as the doors closed behind them. "Gonna join?"

Maine felt a heated blush spread across his face, unable to help the thoughts those words inspired. As Wash moved away from him, his eyes raked over every inch of his body, unable to stop himself imagining the younger man naked beneath a spray of water. The image traveled straight to his groin and the Spartan had to resist the urge to bash his head against the wall to drive it out. This was ridiculous. He had more control than this, dammit! Slowly, he shook his head, but then remembered that Wash wasn't looking at him. Not wanting to risk speaking, he just sent another message to Wash's HUD.

**No thanks. Going to watch Mitch get her ass kicked. See you in the mess.**

"Right. See you then," Wash said with a brief nod before heading off. It took all of Maine's considerable restraint to tear his eyes away, to not follow him. He'd have to take his own time in the showers once Wash had finished. For now, he would just have to content himself with watching Carolina teach Mitch a lesson, and unfortunately, that was much less of a consolation prize than it usually was.

XxX

Wash groaned aloud when he was certain he was alone in the bathroom. He'd stripped out of his armor in the locker room, so he was just down to his bodysuit, and even that was a problem for the raging hard on he had going beneath it.

He was embarrassed to admit that from the moment Maine had seized his fist and pulled him in close, his cock had gone completely stiff beneath the many protective layers. Being pinned to the floor with his partner's knee between his thighs had helped not at all.

"Goddammit!" Wash snarled as he started to work his way out of the bodysuit. So much of that – _so_ damn much – had been exactly like flirting, and he knew how _he'd_ meant it, but Maine…there was no way. There was just no goddamn way-

"Need some help, Wash?" a voice sounded in the otherwise silent room. Wash yelped, spinning around without thinking to find Missie standing in the doorway. She was dressed in nothing but a cami and a pair of shorts and she was already appreciatively eyeing his exposed dick.

"M- Mi- Missie!" he squeaked in embarrassment as he attempted to cover himself, his entire body flushing an impossibly bright red.

"Mm, yes, I'm thinking, would be the answer to my question," she said with a leer as she moved a few steps further into the room.

"What…what are you doing…in the men's showers?" he struggled to ask.

"Relax, hon. You really need to be a little less 21st century," she reprimanded as she moved all the closer. "Personally, I always took those designations as more suggestion than any actual rule. By the way, speaking as a seasoned professional in the arena of cock size, you've _really_ got nothing to be shy about."

"Oh, God. _Please_ stop talking," he begged, trying to no avail to pull his suit back up. "This is awkward enough. I'm never gonna live this down, am I."

"Meh. That assumes I'm of a mind to tell people about this. I don't imagine I will be," his fellow agent said with a casual shrug before beginning to circle him. "You never did answer my question, though."

"H-huh?" he mumbled, trying to turn and look at her, but unable to without losing grip on his suit.

"Do you need some help?" she asked him pointedly as she came back around, looking him directly in the eye.

"What…what are you-"

"I'm offering to blow you, rookie. How much more upfront can I be?" she asked, shaking her head as she crossed her arms. If it was possible, Wash felt his face go even redder.

"Whoa! Hold on! I mean-" he struggled to get the words out, taking a few steps backward. Unfortunately, his half-off bodysuit tripped him up and he wound up tumbling back into one of the shower stalls. "Ow," he groaned miserably.

"Good god, you're adorable, Wash," the redhead said as she followed him into the stall, offering him a hand to help him up. "I'm almost jealous of him. But I suppose that doesn't matter yet."

Wash stared at the other agent's hand for a long moment before looking up at her. "Missie, I don't…I'm not…if you-"

"Take the hand, hon. I'm still going to help you up even if you _do_ turn me down. I'm not gonna do anything unless you tell me you want me to," she reassured him, continuing to offer her hand.

Wash finally took her hand and let her help him up, even though he had absolutely no idea what was happening anymore. Once he was properly on his feet again, he tried to explain himself a little better.

"Missie…it's not that I don't…appreciate the offer, but the thing is…I'm pretty sure I might be gay," he squeaked out, trying to make himself as small as possible against the featureless gray metal of the shower stall. No easy feat, given that Missie was already a head shorter than him.

Missie gave a quiet chuckle at his antics, though. "Oh, hon. I don't think anyone on this ship doubts you 'might' be gay. Pretty sure South plans to start up a new pot the second the last bet in your current one expires. But you have no intention of seeking out the _cause_ of that erection…do you?" she pointed out with a knowing smile.

"How would you-"

"You don't know what my actual role in this project is, do you. Even if you weren't already going around like a lovesick puppy, sexual tension is sort of my business. I _know_ ," she said firmly.

"I…I'm not sure…if I…" he mumbled helplessly, already feeling his resolve breaking down.

"You know, I don't mind if you pretend I'm somebody else. This isn't a thing for me and I don't expect it to be a thing for you. I just see you in a bind and I'm in a position to help you out. That's what we're supposed to do, isn't it? If you happen to like picturing me as a certain tall, muscular Spartan who doesn't say much, I'm hardly in a position to judge," she said as she moved to her knees before him.

Wash wasn't really sure what made him agree. Any other time, he was sure he wouldn't have. Maybe it was because the match with Maine had been so intense and he so d _esperately_ needed to get off, or because of what Carolina had said earlier, or that he'd just been so frustrated with the whole business of late. Whatever it was, he gave a small nod, not exactly looking her in the eye.

"I need to hear a 'yes' from you, Wash," she said as she looked up at him, firm but gentle. "That's the only way this is going to happen."

"Y-yes," he stuttered before he could change his mind. "G-go ahead. Do it."

"All right," she soothed as she placed her hands on his hips. "Just close your eyes. I'll make this good for you."

Wash did as she said, leaning his head back against the shower wall as his eyes slid shut. Missie's hands were small, but they were deceptively strong. As such, it wasn't all that difficult to imagine a different pair of hands gripping his hips – stronger…more familiar.

Wash gasped when he felt a wet tongue take a tentative lick of his tip. He couldn't keep his fingers from scrabbling against the wall as that tongue began to swirl around the head. Wickedly, he imagined his partner on his knees in front of him.

"Hngh…uh…" he whimpered, fighting to keep still.

Next that tongue ventured further up his shaft, licking up and down the length of it and leaving a moist trail in its wake, making the tender flesh even more sensitive to the cool air. Wash began to pant sharply when the other agent started to press little kisses over every inch of heated skin.

He knew he wouldn't last long when she began to take him into her mouth. He resisted the urge to reach forward and touch the other agent, knowing he would feel hair instead of a bare head. Instead he kept his fingers against the wall, fingernails nearly breaking with each intense scrape.

"Unh…fuck…mm," he moaned, body trembling with the effort of not coming.

Wash could feel the change in pace when his temporary partner began to bob more furiously up and down his cock, taking him all the way in.

"Oh…god…ungh," he groaned helplessly, dick straining against the moist heat of the other agent's mouth. He began to thrust lightly against her, but her hands on his hips kept him from moving too much.

Then, in a string of unexpected events, his temporary lover did something even _more_ unexpected. She gave a low growl deep in her throat that sounded very near to a sound Maine might have made during sex. The vibration of that sound and the familiarity of it traveled through Wash's body, finally causing him to lose his grip.

"Unh…ungh… _Maine!_ " he cried out as he came, spilling down Missie's throat. He leaned, half-collapsed against the wall as the orgasm rode him. Missie held on to him, swallowing every drop he had to give.

Finally spent, Wash slowly slid to the floor of the shower stall when Missie released him, not quite able to look at her.

"That help?" she asked him as she sat back.

"Y-yeah…I guess. Thanks. There's…no way to make this not awkward, is there," he said in a resigned voice, knowing he was still blushing an impossible shade of red.

"Hey, don't worry about it, hon. Like I said, I won't tell if you won't. Y'know…except for one person," she said, shifting to sit with her legs crossed.

Wash slowly managed to make himself look at the redheaded agent. "Who?"

"The Counselor," she answered matter-of-factly.

Confused by the response as he was, the only thing Wash could manage was a half-whimpered, "What?"

Missie offered him a tired smile. "Remember before? When I mentioned my actual role in Project Freelancer? This is it. I'm a honeypot."

"You…you mean…"

"Our mission is to break up Insurrectionist cells undermining the war effort. There are a lot of places you can't get into with a mere show of military force. Some things…require a more delicate touch," she explained patiently. "Getting with you guys lets me keep my skills sharp."

"So…wait, you've-"

"Slept with the other agents?" she supplied when he couldn't bring himself to finish. "Yup. With only…two exceptions," she said after a moment of thought.

"Which two?" Wash asked nervously, praying to god one of them was Carolina.

"Tennessee and Arizona. But Ari's dead now and Ten's obviously not on the roster anymore," she said with a shrug.

"You've…slept with _Carolina?_ " Wash pressed, feeling something in his gut begin to churn.

"Well…not exactly 'slept with', per se. It was more like this – a light lunch in the locker room. She and York weren't really official when they first joined up. They were in the 'are we, aren't we' phase, and they'd just had a pretty nasty argument, so I treated her to a little…girl talk, as it were," Missie answered, smiling fondly at the memory.

"Oh, _god!_ " Wash groaned as he curled in on himself. "I think I'm gonna be sick." To know that a mouth that had just been on his cock had also been between his _sister's_ legs? Yeah, that was gag-inducing.

"Calm down, rookie. It's not incest," she reassured him with an easy laugh.

"I dunno. It's about half way there. Wait," he interrupted himself, realizing what it was she'd said. "You _know_ about that?"

"Uh-huh. I insist on complete medical histories before doing my job. Safe work environment and all. That kind of thing."

"And…why, exactly, would the Counselor need to know about any of this?" Wash asked, remembering what she'd said earlier.

"All this stuff goes on our psych profiles. As you can imagine, this sort of thing doesn't often come up in work-related psychological evaluation, and the ultimate goal of the project is to successfully integrate AI constructs with human agents. They need to know _everything_ they possibly can in order to pair each of us off with a compatible personality," she explained, and Wash got the distinct impression she'd had this same conversation many times before.

"But…doesn't it make it, like…hella awkward between you and everybody else?" he asked.

"Nope," she answered with a shrug as she got to her feet. "I'm of the mind that once you've seen somebody with their clothes off, you can only go up from there. Hell, I still get it on with South and Gin from time to time. All completely healthy and open relationships."

"Does…does that mean you've…slept with Maine?" he couldn't quite keep himself from asking as she started to move out of the room. She only half turned to face him when she answered.

"Yes…I have," she answered slowly.

"And…if you could figure out that…that I like him…do you think _he_ knows?" Wash pressed, feeling a small twinge of fear in his stomach.

Missie shook her head. "Definitely not. Our Maine may be one of the more brilliant soldiers in the galaxy, but when it comes to matters of human emotion, he's a clueless wonder. He probably hasn't even figured out how _he_ feels. He won't know how _you_ feel unless you hit him upside the head with a clue bat."

"And…what was he like?" Wash asked, not really meaning to ask for specific details, but not sure how else to phrase what he meant. Missie seemed to understand him, though.

"Inexperienced. If I wasn't his first, I was definitely a close second. It was before you were recruited, so I think he was just looking for some way to ease his isolation. Most of the others don't see it, but he was actually very lonely before you came. Even I couldn't really bridge that gap. Despite what you might think, he's…actually very gentle," she finished, offering Wash another fond smile before heading out of the room, leaving the youngest freelancer to peel his bodysuit the rest of the way off and climb to his feet. Then he turned the water on and just let the spray wash over his body, wondering how he was ever going to face his partner again without blushing.

XxX

As with most things, though, life went on aboard the _Mother of Invention_. The two roommates fell back into their easy routine, though with another layer to their normal silences that neither was quite willing to delve into. Weeks passed and Wash was officially returned to active duty just in time for the Director to announce an out-of-armor training mission. None of them were informed about it. They were simply told to report to the hangar out of armor.

Once all eighteen freelancers were onboard the pelican, Pilot Four-Seven-Eight guided the dropship away from the _Mother of Invention_ and down toward the planet below.

"Okay, people, listen up," CO began to explain to all of them as he started to pace the interior of the drop ship. "The Director handed us this one to keep our game sharp during the off season, so here's how it's going to work. We're currently en route to a patch of forest terrain on that rock down below. We're all going to be split into teams of two for this exercise. We'll each be dropped individually, so you'll have to find your way to your partner. After that, the goal is to be the last team standing. Iowa, you're with me," he announced, nodding his head to tell her to join him for a demonstration. Iowa quickly slipped free of her restraints, survival pack in hand.

"Upon boarding, you were each issued a survival pack," CO continued as Iowa held her pack up for them all to see. "They've all been tagged with a tracker just here," he said, pointing to a small gray device attached to one of the pack's straps. "You're objective is to destroy the other teams' trackers. Once both trackers are destroyed, that team is down for the count."

"Can we start destroying trackers _before_ we've met up with our teammate?" Kansas asked.

"No. Rendezvous with your partner first. The teams are as follows: Carolina and York, Del and Utah, North and South, Dee and Missie, Wyoming and Florida, Gin and Mitch, Connie and Kansas, and Maine and Wash."

"So…what's the challenge exactly, CO?" Carolina asked with a smirk.

CO fired back with a smirk of his own. "You've all been in armor a little too long. We're going back to factory settings with this one. We'll see how many of you remember basic training, see who can handle relying just on themselves, without any tech."

York glanced between his partner and their commander several times, neither faltering in their manic smirk of an expression. "Uh…I think that's 'challenge fucking accepted', man."

"So no ammunition of any kind?" Wyoming clarified.

"Nothing but the combat knife in the pack. Anything else you need, you'll have to make yourself," CO said.

"Well this is already shaping up to be a bloody boring song and dance," the Brit said with a roll of his eyes.

"Now, Reg, give it a chance," Florida said, giving his partner's shoulder a playful shove. "We'll just have to make our own fun."

"Yeah," South said with a chuckle. "If it's gonna be so damn easy, you'd better be the ones standing victorious at the end of the day."

"Are there any time limitations on this one?" North asked.

CO shook his head. "Nope. Just as long as it takes us to complete it."

"Wow," Connie started with a snicker. "Intelligence must be bone dry lately if they can afford to send us _all_ out on one exercise."

"Hey, any chance to get out of the kiddie pool and out on the mean streets," Mitch said with a flick of her wrist. Almost as if by magic, the combat knife from her pack appeared in her hand.

"Just as a reminder, those blades will better serve you for survival purposes. Please don't carve up your opponents," CO said. While Mitch whined in protest, Gin offered up a reassuring smile.

"Don't worry, CO. Not for nothing did you pair her up with me, I imagine. We'll stay on track."

"You're no fun," Mitch ribbed.

"Mm, yes, 'cuz training for the battlefield is supposed to be _fun_ ," Missie said, her voice verging on a sigh.

"'Course it is. What branch did _you_ come from, Miss Missouri?" Del asked with a leer that drew an irate glare from both Missie and Dee.

"Can I kill him, Missie?" Dee asked her roommate.

"Not yet," Missie said, pointedly turning her attention away from the former ODST.

"Heh, silent treatment, is it. Well, let me know when the kitten lets you off your leash, Dee. Then we'll talk."

"See how I'm not killing him?" Dee announced to the pelican at large. "See how nice I am? You all were witnesses."

"Yes, we will all mark this as yet another day that Dee didn't kill Del," Iowa acknowledged, shaking her head and smiling as she pulled her long brown hair back into a loose ponytail.

"Coming up on the first drop point," Four-Seven-Eight called back into the bay. "Better say your prayers, kiddies."

"All right then. I think we'll start with our new kid. Wash, front and center," CO called out.

"Right," Wash acknowledged, slipping out of his harness and moving to the back of the bay to wait for the doors to open.

Taking a moment to make sure his gear was secure, he glanced briefly back at Maine, who locked eyes with him. His partner raised a surreptitious closed fist to him and pounded it against his chest. Typically the fist was the sign for 'hold', but when used like that between them, it was Maine saying, 'Wait for me.' Wash barely had time to nod before the rear door opened up.

The sudden force of the wind around the pelican half swept him from the bay, causing him to land clumsily on the ground several feet below. His training soon kicked in, though, leading him to get clear before the ship could take off again and outright incinerate him in the down blast.

Wash took a moment to note the pelican's direction before beginning to scan his immediate vicinity for a defensible position. Just because he'd promised to wait for Maine to reach his location didn't mean he couldn't get started on a little groundwork. Because from the look of things, they certainly had their work cut out for them.

XxX

Night was falling by the time Connie decided to make camp. She'd tried to get Kansas' attention before being dropped, but hadn't been successful. She could never really tell if Kansas intentionally ignored the world around her or if the other agent was just some sort of absent-minded. Kansas had the ability to seem completely out of it for a whole conversation and then come back in at the end of it talking like she'd orchestrated the entire progression of events. Among other things, it had never made her much of a partner.

Connie had decided that her first move would be to track the pelican, perhaps get a sense of where at least a few of the others were being dropped, if not Kansas. She'd been able to get a bead on Mitch and South, but she'd lost the trail after that. Now it seemed that the best thing to do would be to bed down and get some rest before starting again in a few hours. It was when she was settling down under the cover of some local scrub brush that she felt the point of the combat knife against the nape of her neck.

"Bedding down without anyone on watch for you? Connie, I'm almost ashamed," Kansas' voice slithered into her ear. "I've half a mind to kill you and teach you a lesson."

"So what's the other half intent on?" Connie made herself ask as Kansas moved around in front of her, shifting the knife so that its edge still brushed against the back of her neck.

"The top five best approaches to dealing with each of our enemies," her partner explained, looking Connie directly in the eye. The dark, jagged scar that marred the center of her face stood in sharp contrast to the eerie sky blue of her eyes, and as always, Connie found she couldn't look away from those eyes.

"Don't…don't do that."

"Do what?"

"Don't do the eye thing. I hate it. It's weird. We're supposed to be working together here," she argued, struggling to pull away from Kansas' gaze and failing each time.

"And we will at that. I have every intention of bringing us through to the top position," Kansas explained as she finally let the combat knife slip, releasing Connie's arrested gaze with a few simple blinks. Connie immediately looked away and scooted back from her teammate. "Completing the training exercise should be a simple enough matter. As for myself, I have larger goals in mind."

"Like what?" Connie asked, glaring at the other agent out of the corner of her eye.

"Like settling a bet."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is it just me, or is anyone else starting to hear the Meta's theme whenever Kansas enters the scene? Gonna be interesting when the actual Meta makes the scene. Next time we'll see how this exercise plays out, and just what it is that Kansas is plotting. No real notes to leave you with this time. Just hope it doesn't take me quite as long the next time around.


	5. Searching for My Right Mind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmm...so...I dunno if I can disappear for more than a year and then just suddenly swan back into your fic reading life and act as if everything's still normal. I don't suppose an apology quite covers it, but to any of my original readers still out there, I'm so monstrously sorry for my slow updating. If you're new to me as an author, you'll soon start to see what you've gotten yourself into. I've been working on these two latest chapters in all that time, but the past four months have been particularly busy, as I got married at the beginning of the month. Happy occasion, to be sure, but yeah...getting a wedding together is a bit of an endurance trial. So yes, now that's all done and I am happily playing house with my very own Wash, I'm hopeful of finding more time to write. We'll just have to see.

Maine had told Wash to wait for him, so that was what he'd planned to do. He also knew that he had the distinct disadvantage of having been the first to be dropped off. As such, pretty much everybody could find him if they wanted to, and he could find none of them. So first on his to-do list had been a defensible position, which had been a pretty tall order in a grassy field with basically no cover. The next best thing then, was to try and see himself from his opponents' perspectives. The others didn't know he was waiting for Maine. They only saw him as a threat when he was with the Spartan. On his own, he was still the rookie, an easy target and no real challenge.

Following that line of thinking, they would expect him to strike out on his own upon finding his drop spot less than ideal as a defensible position. Therefore it seemed that the best thing to do was to defend it anyway, just to spite them.

The local grass was only about knee high on him, just barely tall enough to suit his purpose. So, using his camouflaged fatigues to his advantage, he hollowed himself out a place in a corner of the field, ready to dig in until Maine could reach his location.

The newest freelancer had allowed himself a small portion of his rations by the time night had fallen. He was definitely beginning to feel a bit tired, but there was no way he was going to permit himself to nod off before Maine reached him, which he didn't doubt he would…any moment now…

"Still waiting are we, Agent Washington?"

Wash may or may not have yelped at the unexpected voice at his ear. Knife drawn, he rolled to face his assailant, finding Kansas sitting in the grass hardly more than a foot from him.

"Wh- what the _fuck?_ " he demanded. "How the hell did you even _get_ there? I didn't hear anything."

Kansas smirked serenely at him. "I believe that's the point, isn't it. Not all of us grew up safe on Earth, Washington. Some of us have known nothing but war. I actually find myself to be a great deal more effective with _out_ armor. Are you going to point that knife at me the whole time or might we talk?" she asked, tilting her head curiously to the side. Wash tried to look away, but she managed to catch his gaze first, holding it in place. Even in the dim light, those eyes were painfully visible.

"Is that…supposed to be a trick question or something?" he asked, keeping the blade up. "Pretty sure we're supposed to take each other out."

"Well that wouldn't be very sporting of me, would it. After all, you haven't met up with your partner yet," she pointed out.

"And you have? Don't tell me Connie's hiding in the grass, too," he pressed, itching to look away from her, but still unable to. He couldn't explain it, but he felt certain that if he looked away from her for even a moment, he would find himself with a knife through the back of his skull.

"No. She's asleep. I'll know if anyone finds her. Until our dear Spartan makes an appearance, you and I are at an impasse, and I wanted to speak with you about him."

"Why?" Wash asked, raising an uncertain eyebrow. Of all the things he'd expected her to say, that had certainly not been among them.

"Call it professional curiosity. I'd simply like to know what your interest in our supersoldier is exactly."

"What does- that even mean?" Wash returned, not completely certain she _couldn't_ see the mild blush that painted his cheeks. "We're bunkmates, and he's my partner."

At this, Kansas laughed quietly, still keeping him intently pinned beneath her gaze. "And that's saying something of itself. Georgia was Maine's bunkmate before you came along and I don't know that they ever even acknowledged each other's existence. And partner? No one is Maine's partner. No one could ever hope to understand him the way another Spartan could. Not even you. So my question is…why are you trying?"

Wash imagined most people would have felt insulted by such a question. Instead he found himself insulted on Maine's behalf. Though he still couldn't look away from her, he glared at her as he shook his head. "The way you talk…makes it sound like he's not even human."

"Oh, he isn't," she returned. Her tone brooked no argument, but something in her eyes seemed to _dare_ Wash to argue with her, and really, he wouldn't be Wash if he didn't argue the point.

"That's…why would you even _say_ something like that?" he demanded.

"Because it's a _fact_ ," she shot right back. " _He_ certainly doesn't see himself as human. He has no right to. So I repeat – _why are you trying?_ " she asked again. If it was possible, her gaze seemed to become even more piercing.

"Because he's my friend. I don't really have to try to understand him. I just do. He's a good man," he snapped angrily.

"He's not, but we're coming closer to it, I think. I don't believe you could ever understand just what sort of monster he is, but you'll go on trying to get closer to him, won't you. I'd like to know _why._ "

"Seriously, Kansas, could you not do the eye thing right now?" he half-growled, near desperate to look away from her. If she looked into him like that when he tried to explain, he was afraid she _would_ come to the truth of it, and he wasn't even sure _he_ was prepared for that truth yet.

"I'm afraid I must. You see, I want to know what it is that you say right _now._ I _will_ have the truth from you, Agent Washington," she said, getting even closer to him, seeming unaware of the knife he still held poised against her chest.

For a moment, it wasn't a training exercise. For a moment, they were enemies and he was completely certain that if he didn't kill her, she would kill him, or worse…kill _Maine_. He knew he meant to kill when he flicked the knife forward, but thankfully, she was faster than him, catching his wrist in time to stop the motion. Throughout all this, their eyes had remained locked together, and as she held his wrist in a vice-like grip she offered him an unsettling smirk.

"Ah. I see. I see," she said slowly. Wash breathed a sigh of relief when she finally released his gaze, allowing him to turn away. He was so relieved over it, he didn't even make an effort to pull his wrist free.

"What?" he asked, not wanting to risk looking back at her. "What do you see?"

"What I needed to. Be careful of him, Washington. Mind what you feel. Whatever part of your self you choose to give him, I can promise you…Maine will let you down when you need him the most," she said as she released his wrist.

"I don't believe that," he said, looking back up at her with anger in his eyes.

Kansas shook her head with a condescending smile. "Believe me or not as you choose. We'll see who's right in the end. Just remember what I've said."

"Yeah, sure," Wash grated, "'cuz it doesn't suit you in any way to drive a wedge between us."

"Not actually, no," Kansas said, still smiling as she turned to glance off into the grass. "Wouldn't you agree, Maine?"

Almost before she'd finished speaking, a knife flew out of the darkness, pinning the strap of Kansas' survival gear to the pack itself. The strike missed her tracker by less than a hair's breadth. Maine came careening out of that darkness only a moment behind with a look of frustration on his face.

"Guess that means the truce is ended," Kansas said with a sigh, removing Maine's knife from her pack and dropping it at Wash's feet. "Don't forget," she said before melting back into the blackness.

"Oh, screw off, Kansas," Wash bit out, picking up Maine's knife before rising to meet his partner.

"What was she doing?" Maine asked him.

"Hell if I know," Wash said as he handed back the knife. "Some bull about how you'll let me down. She was probably just trying to put us off our game. Honestly, though, she really freaks me out sometimes."

"She has that effect on people," Maine said, staring vaguely at the spot where Kansas had been. "Always has."

"Hey," Wash started, his curiosity aroused by the distant look in his partner's eyes, "how long have you guys known each other? She talks about you a lot, but that's the first thing I've heard you say about her."

"Always," Maine answered after a disconcertingly protracted moment, still not looking away from the spot where she'd vanished. "We…grew up together…before SPARTAN. Same colony. I've always known her."

"So…what's her problem with you, then? If anybody should know you, she should. What's her deal?"

Maine closed his eyes at this, giving a small, bitter chuckle as he finally looked to Wash. "Think about what you said. _Shouldn't_ she know me better? Never occurred to you _she_ might be right and _you_ might be wrong in this case? Maybe she's right about me? Maybe you _shouldn't_ trust me?" he suggested with a shrug, and anyone who didn't know him wouldn't have seen any emotion in his statement. But Wash _did_ know him, and he could see in the tense line of his shoulders just how much pain those words caused his partner.

"Well, that's just a complete load of bullshit," Wash said with as much of a stern look as he could fix the Spartan with.

"You sure about that? Maybe I'm no good for you?"

Wash felt a small blush prick his cheeks at this, struck by just how much those words sounded like words from a lover. Instead of lingering too long on them, though, he barreled on, reaching out to grip Maine's wrist. "Just because she's known you longer doesn't mean she _knows_ you. If she can think less of you for something that happened when you were just kids, then she doesn't know you at all. She doesn't know who you are _now._ Who you are _right now_ should be all that matters. That's all that matters to me, at least," he finished, fervor dying out just a little when he realized the intensity of his own words.

Maine's eyebrows rose at the impassioned declaration, eyes widening in surprise. Wash couldn't be certain in the dim light, but he thought he saw something soften in the supersoldier's gaze. He couldn't identify what the new expression was, but he could have sworn he felt his partner tremble just a little as he shifted his hand to grip Wash's.

"Don't know if I agree with you…but thank you," he said, gazing into Wash's eyes for a long moment before slowly lifting their clasped hands up, staring at them a good while before briefly tightening his grip.

Wash felt like the grip should have been painful with the strength behind it, but all he could think about was the feel of the other man's fingers around his, closer than even _they_ usually stood. For a moment, he closed his eyes, just feeling, and when Maine finally sighed and released his hand, he let it linger longer in the air than he probably needed to. When he opened his eyes again, it was to find that Maine had pulled away from him, shaking himself off as he scanned their surroundings.

"Probably best to lay off the sentiment, though. We've got an exercise to complete," the Spartan started as if nothing had happened. "And there was something interesting I saw on my way over we might want to look in on," he said as he began to head back in the direction he'd come from.

"What?" Wash asked, also shaking himself off, trying to clear the fog in his brain as he followed after his partner.

"Delaware and Utah are about to get caught in a snare."

XxX

Del smirked lasciviously to himself as he crept out from under his cover.

He and Utah had been observing Missie for several hours prior to sunset, witnessing the moment when she joined up with Dee. They hadn't been able to listen in on much of the collusion going on between the two women, but it had certainly been useful just to be able to observe them, waiting for the right time to strike.

That moment had come when Dee had broken away from her partner, heading off into the forest and leaving Missie alone beside the stream where they'd met up. Utah had taken off to go after her, leaving Del to take care of Missie.

 _Does the little slut really think she's safe on her own just because there was nothing in sight?_ Del found himself wondering as he moved up behind the young woman. _And she calls herself a soldier. Ridiculous._

Still, the former ODST found he couldn't fully keep himself from swallowing heavily as he watched Missie beneath the moonlight, scooping up water in her cupped hands and allowing the cooling substance to flow down her face.

Whatever else could be said about her, Agent Missouri was a damn _fine_ piece of ass, and he would always be able to brag that he had firsthand knowledge of just _how_ fine she was. Granted, he hadn't found out until later just how _much_ she got around, but with the _sounds_ he'd gotten from those pretty lips as he'd pounded her into his cot, he couldn't imagine _any_ of her other stands had given her as good a ride as he had. So why hadn't he been able to get any interest from her since that one night?

Fuck it. It didn't matter. He could get a willing woman any time he wanted. Missie wasn't special. Maybe he could catch her interest again if he and Utah came out on top in this thing? Hell, maybe he could even give her the full whore treatment and actually _pay_ her for her time. Fired up by the thought, he made his final advance, reaching out to ensnare the girl.

"I guess you also think I'm deaf in addition to just seeing me as a piece of ass," the redhead snapped without turning around. "Did you honestly think I couldn't hear you coming?"

"Doesn't really matter now, does it, li'l girl," he said as he seized her in a bruising grip, turning her to face him. He was prepared to see a look of defiance in her deep green eyes, the look of a wild creature ready to fight – a look he would really enjoy wiping from her face. What he received instead was a knowing smirk, a look of disdain – a woman who clearly didn't understand the position she was in. "What did ya do about it? f'I didn't know better, I'd say you _wanted_ me to catch ya," he said as he pulled her in close to him, letting her know just how much the thought of catching her had excited him. "Is that it, sweet thing? Did you _want me?_ " he pressed, grinding subtly against her.

"Clearly, you _don't_ know better. What do you think would happen to you if you called Carolina 'sweet thing'? Or Mitch 'li'l girl'?" she mocked.

"Don't much wanna think about it. But Carolina ain't the one who wanted a ride. That was all you, baby," he reminded her, hands moving to grip at her hips.

"You know, I really _could_ be your baby. You're, what, thirty years my senior?" she reminded him, still not fighting him in any way.

"What can I say? I like a fresh face and a young pair of tits. And I'm guessin' _you_ like a dick with a few miles on it, huh, baby girl," he said, feeling the shape of her even through the rough fabric of her fatigues.

Missie growled at that. "Del, I swear, one more pet name and I won't stop at destroying your tracker. I'll remove your _reason_ for humping me in the first place."

"Y'know, sugar tits, I'm hearin' a lotta talk from you, but I'm not hearin' 'no' in there anywhere," he said, leaning his head down to suck a bruise into the lily white skin of her neck.

Missie actually laughed at this. "Seriously? The threat of castration isn't enough of a 'no' for you? I don't suppose you were listening when I turned down all your other propositions either."

"Y'know what, baby girl? Maybe we could work somethin' out?" he half-groaned against her, enjoying another mouthful of her delicate skin. "Just a quick bone in the bushes and we don't take each other out. It's been way too damn long since I had a good bit a' tail."

Again, she laughed, still not reacting to him physically in any way, either positively or negatively. "Somehow, I find myself less than sympathetic to any needs you might have. You're _damn_ lucky we're on the same side right now. I could've killed you ten times over in the last minute alone."

"Heh, right. That'll be the day. Now why don't we forget about work and get into something a little more-"

"Okay, _George,_ you obviously need me to be painfully blunt here. So the thing is this. You've got this really bizarre notion that just because we got it on once, I somehow owe you something. You knew what it was. A onetime thing," she ground out as she suddenly began to move, forcing him backward. "Some of us are here to do a job, so we're not going to do this shitty pickup artist crap anymore. Am I clear?"

"Damn…fucking…" he growled, fumbling clumsily for her tracker, but before he could get ahold of it, his own device emitted a series of shrill beeps, indicating that its partner device had been destroyed.

Fuck. Utah.

"You didn't answer my question, George," she said calmly, though she was pushing him back with even greater urgency.

"You fucking little c-"

Whatever foul insult he would've flung at her was suddenly cut off when he heard the snap of a whip and felt its sting against his wrist. Del snarled as he jumped back from Missie, looking in the direction the attack had come from to see Dee rearing back for another attack with a crude whip.

"Getting slow in your old age there, Del?" she teased as she let the whip fly. He heard its crack, but felt no pain this time.

"Maybe _you_ are. Would it be better if I gave you a free shot?" he mocked, throwing his arms wide. But Dee just shook her head as she smirked at him.

"Oh, I didn't miss."

"Wh-" he muttered in confusion as he glanced around. He caught sight of his tracker lying on the ground just a split second before Missie brought the thick sole of her boot down on the device, grinding it spitefully into the dust. When she pulled her foot away, there was nothing left but a small heap of twisted metal and sparking wire. Del snarled in anger as he dropped to his knees before her. "Dammit! _Dammit!_ "

"I'll repeat myself one more time," she began imperiously. "Am I _clear?_ "

Del glared as he looked up at the younger freelancer, realizing that it was probably the first time he was actually thinking of her that way. Much as he hated Missie in that moment, he couldn't deny that she'd been smart enough to _use_ the tools she had. In this case, her beauty, using his desire for her as a weapon against him. Angry as he was, he could at least respect that sort of cunning.

"Crystal."

XxX

Wash and Maine had watched the skirmish from a safe distance, and at the end of it, Wash found he couldn't stop chuckling. As awkward as he sometimes felt around Missie, even he couldn't deny the sense of satisfaction that came from seeing Del get what was coming to him.

"I know we should take advantage of the fact that Dee and Missie are probably riding high on their victory, but you gotta admit, it was _so_ awesome to watch Del get crushed."

"Never not," Maine conceded with a nod. "We can probably afford to give the girls one night."

"Same spot?" Wash asked as they began to move back through the forest. "Or did we wanna try for something better?"

Maine shook his head. "It's a good spot. They wouldn't expect us to remain in the drop zone. It'll work for the night."

"All right. Good," Wash said, feeling himself on the verge of rambling. "So…where d'you think Dee got the whip?"

Maine shrugged. "Probably made it."

" _Made_ it?" Wash repeated, tilting his head to the side in incomprehension. "She can do that? Just…whip up a whip out of thin air?" he asked, wincing at his own pun.

Maine gave his own silent laugh at this. "You haven't seen any of her solo training. She's very skilled with whips. Wouldn't surprise me if she knew how to braid one together. All it would take is a strong enough material."

"Damn," Wash muttered with an amazed shake of his head. "Maybe we'll regret giving them a pass."

"Maybe," Maine said with another silent laugh. "Won't make Del's thrashing any less worth it."

"True enough. So he's basically a dick to everyone? Not just rookies?"

"Basically. Suppose he missed the memo that Missie only does one nighters," the Spartan said, and Wash could feel him tense slightly in the space next to him. "Can't pretend to understand why anyone would _choose_ someone like him, but what do I know?" he finished with a shrug as they approached Wash's initial campsite.

It was this, more than anything, that got Wash to properly start thinking on the subject of Agent Missouri. He remembered quite clearly her reasons _why_. If Maine didn't know…perhaps she hadn't explained it as often as he'd thought. So why would she explain it to him of all people?

"But she's…been with pretty much everybody, hasn't she?" he started in a failed attempt at casual, but if Maine noticed the slightly raised pitch of his voice, he didn't comment on it.

_Stupid, stupid, stupid! How did we get here? Why are you even_ _**trying** _ _to have this conversation? You're so_ _**stupid!** _

"Yes," Maine answered after another long silence, and it was only after he'd spoken that Wash realized he hadn't paid attention to any of the subtle physical cues his partner always gave him. He had _no_ idea what the other man actually _thought_ of that statement.

"Does that…include you?" he pressed before he could stop himself. It wasn't like he didn't already know. Why was it even any of his business?

"Yes," Maine answered again after an even longer silence, and Wash was so caught up in his own head he was completely missing all of the man's usual tells.

A squeaked 'Oh,' was all he could manage for several moments, struggling to overcome the feel of his heart plummeting into his stomach. What was he? A fucking kid with a crush? He had no right to feel this way. Especially when he'd done the exact same thing.

_You have no right. No right at all. It's none of your damn business who he sleeps with._

_Then why does it hurt so much?_

"Didn't think SPARTAN would encourage that sort of thing," he said without thinking.

"They didn't. You can't- really make a kid understand it going in, but the enhancements did tend to reduce sex drive," Maine explained without looking at him.

"Oh," Wash repeated in a slightly less harried tone. "Then…why Missie?"

"Reduce. Not eliminate," Maine said, and the pause in his words felt like it carried some deeper meaning, but Wash couldn't suss out what it was. "We did fool around sometimes…within the bounds of the Company. I'm not- really sure what happened with Missie, though. Curiosity, maybe. She had to have known I could easily break her in half, but…she still wanted to," he mulled quietly.

"Then she made a good choice," Wash found himself saying before he could stop himself. This time he did notice his partner's small flinch. He might've said something to it were it not for the fact that Maine immediately continued talking.

"I'll take first watch tonight. You should get some rest," he said as they crawled back into Wash's little hollow.

"Okay," he agreed hesitantly. It wasn't until he'd gotten himself properly bedded down for the night that Maine spoke again.

"What about you?"

"What about me?" Wash returned, delaying the inevitable for as long as he possibly could. He felt a little less jealous of Missie knowing how she'd helped to ease something inside of his friend, but this…he knew how ridiculous the thought was, but it almost felt like a betrayal. And what would Maine say if he knew just who he'd been thinking of when Missie'd had her lips on his cock?

" _Has_ Missie been with everyone?" There was something in his tone. Wash didn't let himself think too much on it, terrified of reading something that wasn't there into it, but there was still _something_.

"Yeah," he finally answered, staring pointedly at the tall grass of the hollow as he lay facing away from his partner in his bed roll. "If you count a quick blow job in the shower as 'being with' someone. I dunno. It- it's been awhile. I don't think I would have been into it any other time. I haven't- really been interested in x chromosomes since that one girlfriend I told you about. It just sorta happened. I don't know why," he blustered through the explanation, not even sure _why_ he felt the need to explain himself. Maybe it would prevent him from admitting what he'd really been thinking about.

"So you…prefer men?" Maine's quiet growl came to him through the stillness of the surrounding night.

"Yeah," Wash returned after a moment. What did it mean? That _that_ was what his partner had taken from all his rambling? Glancing to the corner of his eye, he had to fight the urge to roll over and look at Maine. "What about you? Any…preferences?"

At this, Maine remained silent for so long Wash was afraid he might've finally overstepped his bounds. He answered just as Wash was beginning to drift off, resigning himself to the fact that he wasn't going to get an answer.

"I- don't know," the strangely gentle voice came to him just on the verge of sleep. "Everything in the past has just been simple curiosity. I've never known anyone to 'turn me on', as they say. If I do have a preference, I don't know what it is."

Wash mumbled a sleepy 'huh' that Maine couldn't read the tone of. Not even certain whether his partner had actually heard him or not, or if he was even still awake, Maine felt safer not pressing the issue. If he continued on this line, Wash might just be able to read the lie in his words.

It wasn't as if it were a _complete_ lie. Just a truth he wasn't ready to give. It _was_ true that he hadn't really experienced desire before knowing Wash. He understood that now. But how could he confess to his partner, roommate, and best friend that his preference was _him?_ Even if he did, what would happen if those feelings weren't returned? If Wash only saw him as a friend? Was he selfish enough to risk this friendship on the pale hope that there was more to it?

And if he took the risk for nothing? What then?

If nothing else, Maine felt confident enough in his life choices to say that he didn't know from selfish thought. Everything he'd ever had had been given for the sake of other people. Was it so wrong, then, to want something for himself? Just one thing?

It was foolish. He shouldn't be thinking about any of this now. Not when they were out on assignment, training or not. But at the same time, he couldn't seem to keep his thoughts from wandering back to what Wash had said before – about his time with Missie.

Maine shuddered heavily as his mind supplied an image of his roommate naked without his permission.

 _You can't- be doing this,_ he tried to scold himself, but the jealous, possessive feeling at the thought of Missie with Wash was a raging beast in his blood. It was not going to be denied so easily.

It wasn't as if he'd never had thoughts of Wash before. Really, those thoughts had been coming much more frequently since that match. It was just…that he'd never permitted himself to indulge in allowing those thoughts to play through to completion. And now all he could seem to think about was driving Missie from the picture.

He first pictured Wash leaning against the shower wall, his golden, sculpted body standing out sharply from the plain gray metal. He could picture a spray of hot water striking the younger man's perfect skin, each slick droplet sliding down his body in exquisite detail. The next image was of his partner moaning, features twisting in blissful torture as he writhed helplessly against the wall.

_Oh…Wash…_

The Spartan's mouth went dry as he felt himself swell to a full hard on. God, if just the _thought_ of Wash like that was enough to get him _this_ worked up…

The furtive fantasy was unrelenting in its intensity, though, and next to enter his thoughts was an image of Wash whimpering, fingers scrabbling desperately against the wet surface as his head fell back against it. Maine barely managed to suppress a groan as his hand moved to hover above his clothed hard on.

 _Don't you do it,_ he scolded himself. _Don't you fucking_ _ **dare.**_

But it seemed that his traitorous body didn't even need his help at this point. It just needed his thoughts of Wash, naked and panting against a shower wall.

" _Hngh…oh…oh,_ _ **God,**_ _"_ Wash moaned helplessly in the pitched fever dream.

_Dammit. Dammit. Fucking…_

"David," he exhaled the name on a choked breath before he could stop himself. And at the very last…did he even dare…?

Yes. For a brief moment, he allowed himself to picture what _he_ would look like on his knees before his partner, submissively sucking on his hard cock, but still aggressively pinning him to the wall.

" _Unh…ungh…M-"_

_Don't._

" _ **Maine!**_ _"_ Wash cried out passionately in his fantasy, immediately tipping the supersoldier over the edge into orgasm. Thankfully, he still had enough self control and enough self preservation not to make any sound when he came. He was just left crouching at the entrance to their hollow with the very sticky, soiled feeling of his own cum now clinging to his thighs.

_Well, shit._

Feeling a deep blush bloom across his face, he risked a glance over his shoulder, relieved to see Wash sound asleep in his bedroll. Maine gave a small sigh of frustration as he turned his gaze back out into the night, keeping his attention on the watch even as he inwardly scolded himself.

 _Where has your discipline gone, A223? Your brothers would be ashamed of you,_ he snarled in his head, retreating into the Spartan mentality in an effort to distance himself from the pathetic creature crouching in the grass.

He would have to make a point of trekking through water at some point in the near future, which wouldn't be too difficult to find an excuse for. Until then he would just have to endure the literal mess he'd gotten himself into. Perhaps it would be punishment enough for allowing his control to slip. However, no matter how guilty he felt over the whole situation, he was still unsettled to acknowledge the faint strains of a fierce and savage glee beneath it all – the triumphant howl of the jealous creature in his veins at having driven his perceived rival from the mental picture.

 _Rival for what, exactly?_ he berated himself. _As if you had any right to be thinking of your partner that way._

_But…he did say he preferred men._

_**Stop it!** _

He certainly wasn't going to come up with any answers with this constant back and forth, but knowing that didn't serve to quiet his mind any better. All he could really do was stew at the back of his mind throughout his watch, continuing to do so even after Wash had woken up to take his own watch. The thoughts continued to chase each other through his head while he tried to sleep, not really having had any luck by the time they needed to switch again. But in spite of his distracted thoughts, he was still a product of the SPARTAN-III program, still a chemically augmented supersoldier. He heard the snap of the slingshot and saw the small projectile heading toward his partner, even in the dim moonlight.

He didn't waste time warning Wash. In the span of time it would've taken the younger freelancer to blink, Maine had already catalogued the threat and run through the list of best options for counterattack, all while tackling his partner to the ground and shielding his body with his own.

The rock struck his head and, despite the force it must have been fired with, he hardly felt the impact. Where the blow would definitely have done Wash some damage, Maine doubted he would even bruise from this. Looking up from his partner, the Spartan scanned the darkness, searching for their opponents.

To his credit, Wash kept his cool, remaining still while Maine sought out their danger. It wasn't until South's snarky voice snapped out of the darkness that the younger man began to react to the situation.

"Jesus fucking Christ! We get it! Would you two assholes just get a room already!"

Somewhere in the back of Maine's mind, he noted the position they were in. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he noticed the way Wash's face went violently red, subtly changing the dynamic of the freckles on his face. Somewhere in his harried thoughts, he catalogued the nervous gulp that choked its way out of his friend's throat away for further study. He was aware of all of these things, but they did not interfere with the mindset of the current moment. He'd gone into battle mode and he was in peak form, ready to do what he'd been trained to. Worse for the Dakotas, it wasn't _him_ they'd been attacking. It was _Wash._ Training or no, that would not stand.

As it always did, the thought of Wash under attack brought on a sense of calm urgency – urgency in the need to protect his partner, but calm in that the very best of everything he was could come forward in service of that single goal. With South's reckless decision to give away the twins' position, he was easily able to track the sound of her voice and the direction of the rock across the field to the forest, to where they were perched in a tangle of tree branches. South was moving around in an effort to draw his attention away from her brother, who was calmly lining up for another shot.

It spoke to North's raw skill as a sniper, that he could make a distance shot like that in poor light with a primitive weapon and no other gear, but even that wasn't going to be any match for Maine on his best day. He had no doubt they would underestimate him. All he needed was one more rock.

All of this had passed through the Spartan's mind in little more than a moment, but Wash was still catching up, only just beginning to stutter some kind of explanation.

"Maine…I don't…she…what's-"

Maine's only response was a growl deep within himself, and he knew Wash would feel the tone of it with the way their chests were pressed together. He felt Wash shudder against him as they communicated without words.

_Wait. Just wait._

Able to watch North take his shot this time, Maine was able to mark the speed and angle of the rock, predicting its trajectory with pinpoint accuracy. He felt the rock smash into his palm when he held his hand out to catch it, stopping the perfect shot North had made at his tracker. Taking hardly more than a second to aim and compensate for the distance, Maine shot to his knees above Wash and hurled the rock that had been meant for him right back at North, striking the sniper's tracker with deadly accuracy.

" _Dammit!_ " he heard South snarl. The conditions for her brother had been right, but he knew he couldn't hit South's tracker while she was moving around like that. There was only one solution to this problem.

Scooping up the first rock North had fired, Maine took aim, striking the younger twin a glancing blow to the side of her head. She immediately slipped from the tree, North just barely managing to grab her before she fell to the ground.

Maine was on his feet and running in an instant, aware when Wash fell into step behind him. By the time they reached the tree line, North had lowered his sister out of the trees. He had her laid out on the ground with her head resting in his lap as she groaned fitfully in pain. North gave a lopsided half-smile as he looked up at them.

"Y'know, I should probably stop you, but let's face it. She's in no condition to keep at it. We're done."

Maine's only response was to grunt as he reached down, easily snapping the tracker off South's pack and crushing it in his fist.

"Is she gonna be all right?" Wash asked as he came up behind them. South groaned again, half-incensed from the blow. She tossed her head back and forth a few times, blood from a cut at her temple smearing across her brother's fatigues.

"'m'a _kill_ you later…rookie," she ground out.

" _Me?_ What the hell did _I_ do?" Wash protested.

North gave a quiet laugh as he shook his head. "She'll be all right. She's had worse. But Maine, those were some pretty intense throws. I think we sometimes forget what a beast you can be, even without the armor."

Maine stiffened minutely upon hearing the words. On a rational level, he knew North didn't mean them the same way as, say, Kansas would, but they struck a chord just the same. And never had Maine been so grateful that Wash could read him so well than he was in that moment.

He was not easy to read and proud to be so. To see him from the outside, only another Spartan would know he'd reacted to North's words at all. Another Spartan…or David.

David knew what the word 'beast' meant for him. He could read the silence of Maine's suddenly tense body and he reached out to that unintentional plea – that unspoken _need_ for comfort.

Wash reached a hand out to him, resting it easily on his arm. The touch was gentle, but the contact was firm in its reassurance. Maine could almost hear his partner's words in his touch.

_Hey, it's okay. It doesn't matter what anyone else thinks. I'm here. I'm with you, big guy._

Maine drew in a deep breath, shuddering faintly beneath the touch before reaching his own hand across to brush his fingers against Wash's. He didn't know how long they stood like that, with the sky lightening around them and the sound of the drop ship coming closer, but to him it felt like a small eternity – an eternity in which he understood the meaning of what most people referred to as paradise to be the feel of David's skin against his.

XxX

"So I assume you'd tell me if you'd spotted something," Gin called over his shoulder, unsurprised when Mitch didn't answer right away. He trusted her enough to keep his full focus on the task at hand. If someone was gunning for his head, his sister would let him know.

"I might," she returned several minutes later. "But I don't know if you'd be able to _hear_ me over the growling of my stomach."

After three days of nothing but ration packs, Mitch's hangry bouts had been growing steadily worse. Not that he thought she would actually leave him out to dry if worse came to worst, but it could get more than a little grating having to listen to her whining after a time. Besides that, he was starting to feel the hunger pangs himself, so they'd decided a little fishing expedition was in order.

The first thing the pair had done after meeting up planet side had been to find a strong plant that was pliant enough to weave a net with. Growing up on an ocean planet certainly had its advantages, not least of which was being able to feed themselves. When the going got tough, they could always fish. More than this, the net could serve as an effective weapon in close quarter combat – a lesson well learned in many a seedy port town. At the moment, though, the net was serving its intended purpose, stretched across an appropriate section of river to catch fish. As Gin continued hauling the net in, he became aware of Mitch coming to sit beside him.

"So did you hear we're in the last weeks of the betting pool?" she asked, the sound of her combat knife spinning as she tossed it up and down blending eerily well with the murmur of the river.

"I seem to recall hearing something or other, but I think we all figured none of us were going to see any money from that around the two month mark," he commented without looking at her. "So who the fuck made the six month bet? That was the longest running, wasn't it?"

"You don't remember? It was Kansas. We were there when she laid it down with South. La llorona only put down five bucks, I think, but it was definitely the craziest bet."

Gin shook his head as he laid out their catch. Not for the first time, he wondered if Kansas knew what Mitch called her. Unlike her nicknames for the other freelancers, la llorona was not one she used openly, just in company with him.

"Why _do_ you call her that anyway?" he asked as he passed her a fish to clean. "I _know_ you've never seen her crying and it's not like she's ever _actually_ killed anyone."

"No," Mitch conceded, her tone quickly going disquiet. "She just leaves people in a state where it would've been _better_ if she'd killed them. There's just- something not right about that one. But hey, what does it matter?" she continued, shaking herself off as her tone brightened up. "She's about to lose spectacularly, just like the rest of us. Then that whole pot goes to Carolina and South starts the next pool."

"She's already got a new one lined up?" Gin asked, cutting away a strip of raw fish to munch on.

"Oh, yeah. This one's been coming for a while now, but she can't get it going until the first one's up."

"So what is it?"

"How long it'll take princesa to throw gatito down on the training floor and fuck his brains out," Mitch responded with an impish grin.

"Heh, I don't think I've ever seen the Freelancer betting pool flip quite that drastically," he returned with a shake of his head.

"Well, that's what makes it more fun, isn't it," Mitch jibed as she went for another fish. "I mean, seriously, who could've ever seen _Maine_ as a sighing little school girl with a crush? I'd almost say it was adorable if I had a word like that in my vocabulary."

"I don't know about that. You might make people think otherwise if you go around using names like gatito," Gin couldn't quite help pointing out.

"Wash _is_ a gatito. What do you want from me?" she snarked back. "Besides, I think we all know a certain Spartan would agree with me on that statement."

"What's your bet going to be, then?"

"Hard to say. You could power the _Mother of Invention_ for a year with all the sexual tension those two idiots have going. It's amazing nothing's happened yet."

"How do you _know_ nothing's happened?" Gin pressed, more for the sake of playing devil's advocate than anything else. It was _painfully_ obvious the pair wasn't fucking yet.

"You kidding me, hombre? I _know_ you've seen the way princesa looks at gatito when he thinks he's not looking. Or how gatito's basically _begging_ the big guy to bone him into next Sunday whenever they spar. Hell, watching those two is almost better than watching porn. That's want right there. Unspoken animal lust. So the trouble is that they're both clueless wonders," she said with a sigh.

"I don't know about that. I think it's simpler than you're making it," he noted, not looking up at her as he worked another fish down to the flesh.

"How's that?"

"Our doubts are traitors and make us lose the good we oft might win by fearing to attempt," he quoted, relishing the look of annoyance on her face when he glanced over at her.

"Yeah. Whatever _that_ means, Romeo," she spat out before actually spitting in the river.

"Simply put, it means that people let fear defeat them. I don't think Wash and Maine are quite as oblivious as you're making out," he sniffed.

"Whatever. Does that change your bet in any way?" she asked, shifting to her knees as she began to snack on her latest fish.

"Yes. It places the emotional fulcrum of the whole situation on fear and trust instead of just animal passion and obliviousness. I know it doesn't mean anything to you, but it's not just two guys wanting to fuck. There's an emotional component with the two of them."

Mitch tilted her head sideways, just staring at him in confusion for several minutes. "How is it you make _less_ sense when you're _not_ speaking Shakespeare?"

"Belle, all I'm saying is that emotions are more complicated than lust. I'll probably do a six month bet of my own with this one."

"There now. You see? That was all the answer I wanted. Why'd you have to go and make it so complicated? Though…you really think princesa's going to be able to hold back that long?"

"Oh, yes, I really do. Maybe all _you_ ever see is the worst you bring out in Maine, but if I've learned anything about him, it's that he's disciplined. I think he could hold back forever if he had to. This is all going to come down to Wash," he finished with a small nod.

Mitch chuckled as she surveyed him. "You know, I think I'll take that bet, too, when the time comes. I think Maine's going to lose his cool."

"You're on, little sister."

They might have taken the time to shake on their private little wager had the river not suddenly exploded up at them in the form of Wyoming. All Gin heard from his sister was a strangled 'fucking hell' before the camoed blur tackled her to the rock ledge.

"Shit!" he ground out, wasting no time in sweeping aside their catch and going after the Brit with the net. Wyoming was quickly ensnared in the many lines and loops of the net, but by the time Gin had managed to drag him away from Mitch, it was already too late. Her tracker had been destroyed in the initial ambush. Grumbling in annoyance, he reached through the loops to crush Wyoming's tracker. "That's enough of that, old man. Hope it was worth it."

"Well, we're about to find out, aren't we, my boy."

"Wha-"

Gin barely had a chance to look around before something whizzed by him. Yelping in shock, he rolled to the side. When he glanced over the ledge to see what had missed him, he saw an honest to god _spear_ sticking up from the mud of the riverbank. And impaled on the tip of it was his tracker.

"What the hell!" Gin shouted as he scanned the direction the spear had come from. He didn't get his answer until Florida suddenly stepped out from a crevice in the nearby canyon wall, grinning amiably at them.

"I certainly hope you didn't think you were the only ones who knew how to make do with your surroundings," he called as he blew Gin a kiss.

"Did…did you just sacrifice your partner?" Mitch called back as she sat up.

"Maybe. It's hardly _my_ fault if the old boy isn't up to snuff," he teased, briefly slipping into an imitation of Wyoming's accent.

"Life with Butch Flowers, little chaps," Wyoming said with a shrug, not bothering to attempt to slip loose the net.

"O villain, villain, smiling, damned villain," Gin said with a sigh. "That one may smile, and smile, and be a villain. Nothing for it, I guess," he finished with a shrug of his own.

"Now what's this I was hearing about a new bet, kittens?" Florida asked as he leaped down to join them.

XxX

"You think if I ask him, Butch might teach me that spear-making technique?"

CO had to resist the urge to chuckle at that one as he and Iowa surveyed Florida and Wyoming from their hidden perch on the canyon cliff face. He didn't doubt that the pair knew about their little watchtower. At this point, it was just a matter of waiting for the right moment.

"Well," he started back in a whisper, "I suppose you're the only one he _might_ teach it to. Anyone else would get the cultural appropriation talk."

"Which he doesn't care about at all. He just likes to make people nervous," Iowa muttered with a roll of her eyes, and CO was impressed she knew even that much. It was difficult to tell what Florida thought of anything, really. There was much about the enigmatic man that he kept concealed beneath his charming smile.

"So what?" he muttered back. "Your tribe didn't have spear-making?"

Iowa couldn't seem to hold back her chuckle at that one, taking the light-hearted jibe for what it was. "You know, they probably did, but you'll have to excuse me if I'm not a master of every single traditional art and craft of the Meskwaki people. I do need to save room in my head for a few other things. Surveillance is a useful skill for one."

CO didn't respond to that one, just joined her in refocusing on their targets. As of day seven of the exercise, Florida and Wyoming had taken out both Mitch and Gin _and_ Dee and Missie. From the report he'd received from the drop ship, Dee and Florida had had a showdown of epic proportions, whip versus spear. Butch had won out, but Dee had actually managed to destroy the four spears he'd made. Now back at their campsite, Butch was beginning to work on a new set while Wyoming made an effort of tending to his wounds from the fight with Dee. Having eliminated two teams, CO had decided it was time to remind the two soldiers there wasn't really any such thing as the top of the food chain.

"I swear, old fool, this would go much faster if you'd stop moving," Wyoming's voice drifted up to them from the campsite below.

"And I swear that if I didn't love you so damn much, I'd've pinned you to the canyon wall a long time ago, beloved partner of mine," Florida returned in that same chipper tone he always used, the dangerous edge of it only becoming apparent when one really _knew_ him. "I still might when I get these spears ready."

"I'm quite certain you'll find ample time for pinning me once this is all over."

"I'm not sure I can wait that long. And I'm not sure _you'll_ like it when I do."

"You know, you always say that, and yet I always _do_ seem to enjoy it."

"Not untrue. I may just have to-"

CO couldn't at first identify the sound that had cut Florida off, it was so strange to hear him cry out in pain, but when he finally did identify the strangled noise as such, he shook his head. Dee had really done some damage.

"Seems to me they're distracted enough. Shall we?" Iowa asked him.

"I'm not sure. You haven't spotted York or Carolina since this morning, have you?" he asked her.

"Can't speak for Carolina, but the last time I saw York was when he took off on his last scouting run. If they stay consistent, he won't be back until after dark. Butch is injured and down to probably just his combat knife. It might be a risk, but I doubt we'll get a better opportunity than this," she pointed out.

CO weighed their options for several moments. His partner was certainly right in stating they wouldn't have a better opportunity than this to move against Florida and Wyoming, but if he knew anything about Allison's daughter, it was not to expect consistency from her. The only consistency was that she would take whatever steps were necessary to come out on top. If they couldn't even account for her position right now…

"You're probably right," he conceded before passing her his knife. "But I'll have you take point on this one. I'll keep back to cover you. I don't want to run the risk of an ambush from the two pups."

Iowa nodded before beginning the treacherous descent down the cliff face, scuttling down the rock like a spider and somehow seeming to find hand and foot holds in solid stone. CO had to follow at a somewhat slower pace, but he made it eventually, falling into position in one of the copses of scrub brush at the base of the canyon wall. All the while, Iowa crept up on the unsuspecting pair.

Florida and Wyoming were more or less out in the open, so there was no cover that would allow Iowa close enough for a guaranteed shot at Florida's tracker. The best option was to move in behind Wyoming and make the shot before Florida noticed. So that was what she did, moving up behind Wyoming and staying out of Florida's radar as long as she could. Waiting until Florida was more focused on the new spear he was working on than on Wyoming's rudimentary medical aid, she took her position and made her throw with the combat knife.

To her credit, Florida hadn't heard her approach, but he _did_ hear the sound of the blade as it whirled through the air. Shoving his partner to the side, he managed to catch the spinning blade before it could pierce his tracker.

"Well, that's a wonderful little trick," he said to Iowa with his typical ebullient grin, the expression just barely masking his wince as he got to his feet. "But you're going to have to forgive me for pointing out that you've got no weapon now."

"You think so?" the woman parried as she and Florida began to circle each other. "Willing to stake your life on that?"

"Where's the fun in life without a few stakes?" Florida returned.

"Butch, I'm quite sure you could make your own fun either way," she said, being careful not to go for CO's knife and give herself away. It was better to leave her opponent thinking she was bluffing somehow.

"There is _nothing_ untrue in that statement," Wyoming couldn't seem to help putting in from the sidelines.

Iowa chuckled at that, being careful not to look away from Florida as she spoke. "Aren't you dead or something, Reg?"

"Oh, don't mind me, my dear. Just your friendly neighborhood distraction."

If there was some sort of signal between the two men, Iowa didn't see it. Whatever the case was, at the exact end of Wyoming's statement, Florida made his move, flinging her own knife back at her. The combined moment caused her to be just a hair slow on the uptake and she couldn't time herself properly to catch the spinning blade. All she could manage to do was whip out the reserve blade, blocking her own knife and sending it careening out of sight. Their circling confrontation continued mostly uninterrupted.

"There we go," Florida tittered. "Evenly matched now."

"Tricky, tricky."

"You know, one of us will have to make the first move eventually."

"Eventually," she agreed, and really, the two could have continued their back and forth for days on end, neither being a particularly impatient sort. They probably would have, except that Iowa suddenly found herself distracted by the beeping of her tracker.

_Ben?_

Florida used her moment of distraction to strike. Instead of taking another shot at the tracker, the slighter freelancer launched himself across the space between them, bringing his blade up in a sweep from below to skewer her tracker, pinning it against her pack. Really, it was only through sheer dumb luck that she managed to reach out and seize his tracker in her free hand, crushing it in the very same moment he stabbed hers.

And CO witnessed none of this, as he'd become a bit preoccupied with his own challenge. At first, he'd kept up his vigilance, keeping his attention on their surroundings while still keeping an eye on the showdown between the three freelancers. However, as the confrontation had become more heated, he'd allowed himself to focus a little too intently on it – and had failed to notice Carolina creeping up on him until it was too late.

Kathryn Church was usually easy to spot. Her vibrant red hair blended into nothing short of an already blood-soaked battlefield. He remembered seeing her stand out from all of her other neighborhood playmates when she was a kid, ever the brightly burning spitfire. In fact, he suspected she'd become too used to not having to worry about concealing it, hidden under a helmet as it often was. She'd been fairly easy to keep track of this week with that red hair sticking out strongly from the foliage of the green world. When he suddenly became aware of the young woman at his side, though, he could see that she'd learned her lesson well, as she'd streaked that hair through with dirt, completing the job her fatigues did for the rest of her body. She'd got the better of him.

Their moment of acknowledging eye contact didn't last more than a few seconds, but to the older soldier, it seemed like it lasted much longer. As he looked at her, he felt a strange mix of annoyance and pride – self-annoyance that he'd allowed the lapse to occur at all, but pride for Allison's daughter at having bested him.

"Clever girl," he couldn't quite help murmuring as she reached forward to crush his tracking device between unforgiving fingers.

XxX

"Y'know…call me crazy, but I think this place is starting to grow on me."

Wash couldn't keep the smile from spreading across his face when Maine actually chuckled at his words. Not his typical silent laugh, but an honest to god sound of amusement.

"Going native, are we?" the Spartan asked as he flipped the fish skewers over on the small patch of banked embers they were using to cook – a method that produced little smoke to give them away and allowed them to enjoy a nice quick meal of what was essentially seared trout. One couldn't subsist on ration packs forever after all.

"I'm serious, man. Just get ourselves some marshmallows and chocolate bars, we'd have our own working paradise right here at the hind end of space. Maybe figure out how to whip up a few pizzas. We'd have it _made._ "

They were ten days into the exercise now and he and Maine had managed to go almost that whole time without human contact since that first night. They'd had a run in with York and Carolina two days ago, but everyone had managed to walk away from the encounter unscathed.

They'd agreed on a 'lie low and wait it out' strategy fairly early on. If they could outlast the others, they'd have a better chance of coming out on top. But just because they weren't actively seeking out confrontation didn't mean they weren't keeping tabs on their fellow freelancers. They were well aware there were only three teams remaining. What their scouting runs had revealed was that each agent had been dropped in a circle around a river valley. With the possible exception of Connie and Kansas, all the teams had made their way down into the valley, picking each other off one by one.

"How long?" Maine asked as he handed him a skewer, not really needing to clarify what he'd meant.

"Not long," Wash returned with a small chuckle. "Carolina'll get impatient and slip up. Maybe we'll get lucky and they'll take each _other_ out." Granted, he'd never known his luck to be _that_ good, but really, _would_ it be lucky if they finished the exercise? If anything, Wash found he wouldn't mind if they just kept on doing this for a few more weeks. What would really be lucky would be if the remaining teams just never found each other and he and Maine just went on like this – wandering together through an alien wilderness, eating what they found, and having nearly no worries. Not always needing to speak, just being together. Maybe…if they both made it through…maybe life could be like this after the war?

 _Stop that,_ Wash scolded himself, a mild blush spreading across his face. They'd managed not to bring up the subject of their conversation from the previous week at all, but he couldn't help the occasional thought that drifted through his head. He would just have to glance away from Maine whenever the blushing became too strong. But even the occasional awkward or shiver-inducing thought wasn't really enough to deter his happiness at simply being around his friend.

_I wish…we could stay like this always._

"Wash," Maine suddenly started in again as he munched on his own skewer, carefully going about the process of smothering their cooking embers. "Think maybe…I could ask you something? About that conversation we had before the Dakota run in?"

 _Speak of the Devil,_ Wash thought with a small sigh. "What did you want to know?"

Maine remained silent for several long moments before speaking again. "Just…I was wondering if you might-"

There was no way to know what the rest of that question might have been, because at that exact moment, the valley was shaken by the sound of a demanding, booming voice.

"Good evening, Maine, Washington, York, Carolina," Kansas' amplified voice echoed through the valley. "It seems this is what we've come down to. Daddy's little girl, the bad joke, the monster, and the virgin."

Kansas paused at this, and in the silence Wash felt a heated blush of anger and mortification spread across his face. Anger for Maine and embarrassment for himself, even though there was no _reason_ for the other freelancer to be calling him a virgin. Why did he even think it was him she was talking about?

"I don't know about the lot of you, but I'm getting a little tired of all this. If we keep on as we have been, none of you will ever find us and you'll likely go on circling each other until we all die of old age. Somehow I find that thought boring and wearying, so what say we stop playing around and get this business done with. At the north end of your little valley, you'll find a cave mouth forty-three feet above the ground level. Connie and I will be waiting. You have until midnight to make an appearance. If you don't show, we'll just have to start smoking you out. And that, my dears, is an option you _definitely_ don't want," she warned before falling silent. Maine and Wash both sat in that silence, staring up at the sky for several moments. Wash was the one to finally break the silence.

"What the hell just happened?"

"Probably figured a way to use the acoustics of the valley to amplify her own voice," Maine said with a speculative shrug.

"That's not- so much what I meant. I was more talking about the challenge she just laid out, and the whole smoking us out thing."

"She's not lying. She has no _reason_ to lie," Maine said, angrily scuffing a boot against the dirt. "If she says she can do something, she can do it. There's no way to go back, so the only way forward is through," he said, gazing up at the far cliff face Kansas had spoken of.

"Are you sure about this?" Wash asked as he looked up at Maine. "I mean…there's something off about you when it comes to her, and she's clearly got some bug up her ass about you. Do you really wanna go against her on her terms?" he pressed. He knew Maine had been endeavoring to hide it, but the things Kansas had said had been plaguing him ever since that first night.

Again Maine shrugged, not looking at him as he spoke. "You can't dictate terms with her. At least _I_ can't. As far as Kansas and I are concerned, I'm only _ever_ on her terms."

Wash growled in frustration, eyes narrowing as he moved around to stand in front of Maine. Grabbing his partner by the chin, he forced Maine to look down at him. "Are _you_ going to be all right?" he demanded firmly, holding the Spartan's piercing gaze with as much intensity as he could muster. He was worried, dammit, and he was _not_ going to have his partner be evasive about this.

For a moment, Maine's eyes softened. "Wash-" he began in a tone that very much told the younger freelancer he was about to be dismissed.

"No!" he snapped back. "We're _partners,_ Matt, and I'm not about to let you shut me out on this one. I don't _care_ what kind of game she's trying to play. I don't care if we have to run from her for a _month_ if you don't want to go up against her. All I care about is if _you're_ going to be okay. You've been off since this whole thing started and it's really starting to worry me."

While he was talking, Maine's expression shifted again. It changed from something tender into something pained, a look that was aching and horribly sad. Shaking his head, he meekly tried to pull away. "You don't know. You don't…know…"

"Bullshit," Wash bit out. "By this point, I think I know you at _least_ as well as some of the guys who trained with you. What do you think you can possibly say to change my opinion of you? Nothing Kansas can do is going to change the way I feel about you," he said, freezing for a moment when he realized the words that had come out of his mouth. But when Maine's eyes widened slightly at the statement, he quickly corrected himself with, "You're my partner…and you're my friend. I know what kind of man you are, even if Kansas doesn't…even if _you_ don't always know. We don't have to deal with her bullshit. We can handle this on our own terms. It's up to you. Just- just don't shut me out," he finally finished, out of breath and afraid that if he kept going, he might never stop. Just keep on talking until he said something they might both regret…except that his save was completely defeated by the fact that his hand had shifted positions on Maine's face.

Some time during his tirade, his hand had moved from gripping his partner's chin to cupping his cheek. This was _way_ more physical contact than could safely be contained in a strictly platonic relationship. Fighting back panic, Wash had to resist the urge to pull away. If he pulled away now, Maine might take it the wrong way – as a sign that all the words he'd spoken had been nothing more than talk. But what if he was freaking the Spartan out right now? What if Maine pulled away? What if he _didn't?_

However, when Wash finally took a moment to breathe and really look into Maine's eyes, he saw that his friend didn't really seem to notice the position they were in. The Spartan was just staring down at him wide-eyed – almost as if he were seeing him for the first time. When he finally seemed to come out of whatever trance he'd fallen into, he didn't take a step back like Wash had been expecting. Unless he really was hallucinating, Maine actually may have _leaned into_ the touch.

"It's all right, David. You don't have to worry about me," he said slowly. "Honestly, not really used to having someone worry about me. Comes with the big brother territory. Kansas…she's…that's more complicated than either of us has time for right now. I'm fine. I'll be fine."

"You sure?" Wash couldn't stop himself from pressing, elated that he wasn't being rejected. "'cuz I'm not."

"I'm fine _for now,_ " Maine conceded with a wry smirk. "We can get into it later. Besides, it's just training. What could happen?"

Wash smiled as he shook his head, running a thumb over Maine's cheek. "Famous last words. I'm gonna hold you to that, though. We're talking when we get shipboard again. You're not getting out of this conversation."

"No," Maine started, staring at him oddly for another few moments. "Don't suppose I am."

Maine raised a hand to Wash's shoulder to grip it, and for a moment the two of them were connected, with no complications or uncertainties between them.

_Matt…I…_

But Maine was the one to break that moment when he finally pulled back from Wash, moving away to make sure the last of their gear was in order. Wash knew he wasn't going to give this up, though. Maybe they could actually…get a few things out in the open?

_We can figure all this out together, Maine. Just a little bit longer._

XxX

The sun had only been down for an hour when Maine and Wash made the ascent up Kansas and Connie's little cliff. Wash had suggested waiting for York and Carolina to make an appearance, maybe take on the challengers together, but Maine had vetoed the idea. He knew what this was. Kansas…Thea…whatever she was calling herself…she was calling him out.

With the things she'd said to Wash, Maine knew she was trying to make this about him – about the nightmares from their shared past she could never seem to let go of. But whatever game his former friend was trying to play, his partner had apparently already decided he was having none of it, and Maine was beginning to wonder if maybe he shouldn't go that route as well. Wash believed in him, and he was starting to feel like that might actually be enough.

He'd had many surprises from his roommate these last days. Not the least of which were the many physical tells he'd somehow managed to not see in the time he'd known the younger man. Like the way the beat of blood in his wrist would increase in speed whenever he took him by the hand, or the way he would tremble at the slightest physical contact, the adorable way he thought he could hide the blush that stained his face just by looking away from him – all of it. Had he really been so blind up to now? Wash's crush was so obvious it seemed everyone but him had noticed. Maybe he just hadn't seen because he hadn't _wanted_ to – hadn't wanted to risk his heart so openly.

Had _he_ been this transparent to Wash? No. That wasn't possible. If Wash knew his feelings were returned, he would never hesitate. Only…what did all of this really _mean?_ Was his bunkmate's attraction purely physical? Was it just a matter of…wanting sex from him? If that was all, Maine didn't know how to feel about that, but he also somehow couldn't see that being the case. Not with Wash. Not David. Not the man he knew. David had more care than that. So maybe…maybe it was time to try and unravel these tangled thoughts and feelings in his chest? Maybe it was time to go to Wash and tell him…tell him-

_Soon, Wash. Soon. We just have to get through this._

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Maine refocused himself on the task at hand, nodding for Wash to mount the lip of the cave, taking point like they'd planned. Much as Maine hated the thought of placing Wash between Kansas and himself, he knew it wouldn't be something she was anticipating. She would expect _him_ to confront her directly, to protect his partner in any way he could. It wasn't much of an advantage, but against Kansas, he would take what he could get.

He waited for Wash to proceed ten steps into the cave before falling into step behind him. The opening extended far back into the rock face and from what he could see, the tunnel was lit at its furthest end by a low-burning fire. The scent of the burning wood wafted faintly to them, but there was no sign of smoke buildup within the cave itself, meaning it was escaping another way.

_Another exit._

Filing the information away, Maine kept his attention on their immediate surroundings, carefully listening for any sound not made by him or Wash.

The sound he was waiting for came in the form of a child singing - a haunting melody from a long time ago.

_I remember tears streaming down your face_

_When I said 'I'll never let you go',_

_When all those shadows almost killed your light._

_I remember you said 'Don't leave me here alone',_

_But all that's dead and gone and passed tonight._

The distant lullaby was accompanied by the high, cruel sound of Kansas' laughter. Wash muttered some kind of comment on creepy kids in caves, but Maine didn't properly hear it. He was frozen in place, pinned to the spot by that voice from the past.

_Just close your eyes._

_The sun is going down._

_You'll be all right._

_No one can hurt you now._

_Come morning light_

_You and I'll be safe and sound._

The dark and soothing words of the song called up images of his home, memories he'd kept locked away for years...

...the golden fields of Aurelia, on the days the lavender sky wasn't blotted out by smoke from the fighting...

...his father, just as much of a mountain as he himself was, but smiling, gentle, laughing as he wielded his battered field rifle against the Insurrection...

...his mother, an elegant, hard line when stood next to the bulk of her husband, harsh and brave, but still with an armful of loving hugs to go around as the world crumbled around them...

...his sisters, his baby sisters, his precious siblings, each one of them, down the line from the moment his mother had told him he was going to be a big brother...

...Selina, beautiful, starry-eyed Selina, always willing to take on more work than maybe her small shoulders could handle, always ready to help...

...Astri and Estelle, the twins, bold and protective, always drawing lonely kids into their little circle of family, always aiming higher...

...Roxana, little Roxy, the baby he'd carried in his arms after Mom died, fierce and scrappy, always in trouble, but unfailingly tough, like all of them...

...the strange lullaby their parents would sing to them in the night...desperate to help them sleep...to be at peace for a moment...and of course he remembered _her_...just another little girl...singing the song to her own sister...

...and he remembered seeing that little girl shatter...

"Maine?"

...blood everywhere, sprays of it covering the walls...dead men, men he'd killed, the soft, horrified cries of his sisters...were they crying because of him? Or because of them?

_Please...don't cry._

...and in the middle of it all her tiny, broken body...her desperate cry...

_"Please..."_

" _Maine!_ "

_"Kill me, Matthias!"_

_Oh, God._

"Maine, wake up! _Please!_ "

_Wash!_

**Maine will let you down when you need him the most.**

" _NOO!_ "

Maine himself never would've recognized the inhuman scream that tore from his throat, so he certainly couldn't have expected anyone else to. When he finally wrenched himself from the waking nightmare, he expected to see his partner as far from him as he could get, cowering in fear, unable to deny the _monster_ he was.

Except that wasn't what happened.

He came to with Wash crouching with him on the cave floor, gripping his shoulders in desperate hands as he shook him.

"Are you all right?" Wash demanded fiercely, hands moving up to cup his face when he realized Maine was actually looking at him again.

"I...I can't...it's not..." he struggled to speak, pressing his own hands against Wash's, just needing to _feel_ him there.

"No. Stop. You're _not_ all right," Wash snarled, his blue eyes burning with righteous fury. "It's just her stupid game. We don't have to play. Fuck this and fuck her! We're leaving," he said firmly as he pulled Maine back to his feet.

"Wash-"

"Don't argue with me on this one, man. I am getting you out of here," he said, starting to pull Maine back toward the cave mouth.

"No...she's...we aren't-"

"You really should have listened to your _friend,_ Maine," Kansas ground out slowly as she appeared beside the small fire, her cold, blue eyes aflame even in the dim light. "But it's a little late now."

"Really? Just what is it you think you're going to do?" Wash challenged as he continued to pull Maine back.

Kansas gave an unsettling giggle at his challenge, shaking her head in chastisement. "You didn't count the bread crumbs, did you, Gretel?"

"The hell are you-"

Before Wash could even finish the confused demand, Connie shot out of one of the side tunnels, crashing into him and tackling him against the far wall.

"Wash!" Maine shouted, but before he could move to step in, Kansas had used his moment of distraction to swoop across the space between them, coming to a stop barely an inch from him and delivering a jab to his gut.

"I'm disappointed in you, Matt. Your sisters gave up hope of ever seeing you again so you could train to become a Spartan and _this_ is how you're squandering your training? You've been getting sloppy. If you were even half paying attention, you could have killed us both ten times over by now," she mocked as she danced away from him, avoiding the string of blows he aimed for her head.

"Do you still _want_ me to kill you, Thea? I just might if you try to bring him into this," Maine snarled as he pursued her across the cave floor, delivering blow after blow, which she managed to evade every time.

"Would you really? Don't make me laugh. We both know you can't do it. You have the strength to crush a Sangheili warrior's skull between your palms and you can't kill one woman. So what are you if not a Spartan, Matthias?" she challenged, avoiding every hit he threw at her.

"You don't know me. I think you'll find I've gained much more!" he roared as he flew at her, yet another blow that she easily managed to sidestep, sneering all the while.

"More? What could you mean, old friend? Is it him?" she asked, nodding in the direction of the skirmish between Wash and Connie, both struggling for their opponent's tracker. "I think we know what happens to those you call friend."

Maine stopped cold at her words, choked by fear and anger. "Is that a _threat?_ " he hissed in barely contained fury. If she _dared_ to threaten Wash-

"Oh, I don't _need_ to make threats, Matthias. _You're_ the threat here. What do you think will happen to him if he continues to associate with you? The only place that road leads is pain," she said calmly, coldly, and in only a moment, she managed to turn the fight in her favor.

Despite her comments about his lack of attention, he _had_ been aware of York and Carolina's approach from one of the back tunnels, noting the flickering of their shadows as they moved from cover to cover. He'd only hoped he could keep their opponent occupied enough through the fight with him, but as it happened, Kansas was completely aware of her peril.

When York stepped out of his cover to come at Kansas from behind, she smoothly stepped out of his way and grabbed him by the wrist, swinging him around in an almost balletic movement to pin him against her body, so that the crushing grab Maine had meant to make for Kansas' tracker wound up taking _York's_ tracker as victim instead.

_Dammit!_

"Kansas! What the fuck?" York snarled as she easily shoved him aside, the beeping of Carolina's twin tracker still echoing in everyone's ears.

"All's fair," Kansas returned with a mocking smirk. "Bit out of control are we, Matthias?"

"That _wasn't_ his fault, Kansas," Carolina tried to argue for Maine's sake, though she may as well have not said anything for all the supersoldier actually heard it. The focus of his world was narrowing with deadly intent upon his former friend. He heard the sound of two more trackers beeping, but he was too intent on Kansas to disentangle the sounds from one another.

"What can you do?" Kansas asked him, as if it were just the two of them alone in the cave. "What can you _really do?_ In the end...you will always be left standing alone in the midst of your own _ruin!_ "

Maine gave a wordless howl of rage at her words before flinging himself at her, not caring if he hit her or not, just throwing everything he could into his punches, and of course she dodged every single blow, leading him around the space like a dog on a leash.

"Maine!"

Did he want to kill her? Yes? No? Did it matter? All he really knew was that she was right, and he just couldn't bear to hear it anymore. So he followed where she led, uncaring of the fact that he was exactly where she wanted him. He just wanted to make it all _stop_.

And he did.

Kansas didn't sidestep the next punch he threw. She simply ducked, allowing the inhuman blow to pass harmlessly overhead - and directly into the person she'd come to be standing in front of.

Directly into Wash.

When everyone present gave their report on the incident later, none of them would really be able to say they'd properly seen what had happened in the dimly lit cave. All anyone had really been able to see was that one minute Wash was on his feet, and the next he wasn't.

But Maine was not spared the horror of that moment. Every detail of that one blow was branded into his heightened senses, every last bit of information captured in slow motion and perfect high definition, all of it burned into his brain to relive in nightmares for as long as his wretched heart continued to beat.

He felt the softness of Wash's skin against his own as his fist connected with his partner's face. Then he felt the crunch of his jaw breaking as the kinetic force of the blow traveled from his body and into Wash's. He lived the brief moments Wash went flying through the air like hours, feeling the stop and start of his own heart as his best friend crashed against the wall.

The sickening crack of Wash's head connecting with the cave wall tore through the Spartan's brain like a sniper's bullet, only marginally dulling the sensation for the myriad other bones impacting against the stone with the force of his enhanced strength. He felt something inside of himself splinter when he saw Wash's eyes widen in pain, and the sound of the younger man's cry was like a knife through the heart of him.

" _Wash!_ "

" _David!_ "

To say that he cried out when Wash fell was to do a disservice to the tortured sound that was ripped from his throat. It felt like every molecule of his being, everything that ever had been or would be Matthias Hawthorne - Matthias-A223 - Agent Maine - every atom screamed out _NOO_ as he bolted forward.

" _DAVID!_ " he screamed, just barely managing to catch his partner in his arms before crashing to his knees. The younger man felt no more substantial in his arms than a handful of wet snow. He knew exactly how strong he was, how much damage he could do with just one punch. "No. No, no, no, no, no," he whispered helplessly over and over again.

"M- Matt," he groaned in agony, not wholly able to stop the whimpers of pain that fell from his lips.

"I- I didn't...I'm...oh, _God,_ " he choked out, feeling his throat begin to close up against the tangled ball of horror solidifying within it.

" _No!_ You didn't...it's not- your fault," Wash tried to argue. Maine couldn't tell with the rapid blinking of his eyes, but it looked like the younger freelancer's left pupil had gotten wider than his right. A sure sign of significant trauma to the brain. "Fuck. It- it _hurts,_ Matt."

"Now do you see?" Kansas' sure, icy tone suddenly broke into the small, sacred space between them, the sound of his tracker breaking in her fist barely registering in Maine's mind as the woman knelt beside him. "This is what you are. _This_ is what happens to the things you care about. You're a _monster,_ " she whispered in his ear.

"S- stop it," Wash mumbled, unable to keep his eyes open long enough to look at Kansas.

"You can kill men with a single blow _,_ and you held nothing back when you went for me. Without any armor to protect him from that...it's very likely Agent Washington will _die!_ " her poisonous whispers continued to slip into his ears.

" _Shut up,_ " Wash snarled in his defense, still fighting for him - even after what he'd _done._ Even though he was clearly in pain.

"Is he gonna be all right?" Connie's concerned voice sounded somewhere above them.

"What will you do if he dies, Matthias?" she continued to taunt him. "Will you still run from what you are?"

"Matt, don't listen to her," Wash pleaded desperately, even as he trembled in pain, his breathing going ragged.

"David!" Carolina shouted as she crashed to her knees opposite them. "David, can you hear me?"

" _Monster,_ " Kansas whispered in his ear, and in the painful, frozen silence that one word brought on, there came the sound of one last tracker breaking.

"Fuck...you...bitch," Wash growled up at Kansas, her tracker falling from his hand as he finally fell unconscious in Maine's arms.

Shaking her head as she glanced up from Wash over at him, Kansas smirked as she declared, "And I do believe that is six months exactly."

At first, Maine didn't know what she meant, but then it hit him.

The bet. South's goddamn betting pool. Really, he'd almost forgotten what they'd been betting on to begin with, but now it came back to him with painful clarity.

They'd all been betting on how long it would take him to put Wash in the infirmary - how long it would take him to _hurt_ Wash. And Kansas had determined it would take him six months.

He should've been angry with her for this. Should have. But all he could feel in that moment was shock and horror. It was because of him that Wash was like this now. Regardless of what either his or Kansas' intentions had been, _he_ was the one who had hurt Wash, and he knew he would never forgive himself for that as he watched Carolina pull his unresponsive body from his arms.

"York, I need a distress flare _yesterday,_ " she snapped to her partner as she began to assess her brother's vitals.

"On it."

"Come on, Wash. Don't do this," Carolina growled, quickly getting a handle on her initial worried reaction.

Then, as if she _hadn't_ just been dangling Wash's life over his head like some kind of eternal damnation, Kansas immediately moved into professional mode, utilizing the medical training Maine knew she had.

"The blown pupil is a sign of serious internal damage," Kansas reported to Carolina. "Without a scanner, I couldn't say what type exactly, but I wouldn't doubt he's suffering from increased intracranial pressure. That must be lowered at once or he might suffer permanent impairment."

"How do we do that?" Carolina pressed.

"Well, if we-"

Maine didn't really hear what Kansas was saying. It was all going over his head. All he was perceiving just then was Wash - the paleness of his skin, the small dribble of blood that was beginning to trickle from the corner of his mouth, the way his body shook as he fought for each breath - how _fragile_ he was. Maine hadn't realized how he'd let himself forget. As he watched his partner and friend struggle for life, Kansas' words played in a macabre loop in his head.

_What will you do if he dies?_ **What will you do if he dies? WHAT WILL YOU DO IF HE DIES?!**

_If he dies...if he dies, I...I..._

XxX

"Please explain to me, Agent Maine, because I _do not_ understand, what exactly it was _you thought you were ATTEMPTING TO ACCOMPLISH!_ " the Director shouted at him. Maine didn't know that he'd ever seen the man this enraged before.

"Couldn't- shut her up," he all but whispered, not really feeling the brunt of the man's anger. His mind was still trapped back in the cave, aboard the pelican, unable to do anything but watch as Wash slowly died.

"Sir, it really wasn't his fault," York tried to defend him. "Kansas provoked him. She _wanted_ him to attack."

"Come now, York. It's not as if none of us have ever used the tactic before," Kansas argued smoothly. "Maine is quick to anger. We all know it. Besides, how could I have _possibly_ predicted the outcome once I'd stoked his ire? This was an accident."

"Don't give us that _bullshit_ , Kansas," Carolina fired at her from the other side of the Director's office. "You _knew._ You knew _exactly_ what you were doing."

"Even _I'm_ not _that_ good. What I hear you saying, Agent Carolina, is that I somehow plotted to get Agent Washington killed. And if that's the case, then what basically happened is that I arranged for him to die, and then promptly turned around and saved his life with my medical training. Is that what I did?" she challenged.

Carolina fumed silently for a moment before firing back, "I don't know, but just because I don't know what doesn't mean that _something_ didn't happen down there. Maine _wouldn't hurt Wash._ "

"Really? I believe we're all standing here now because he _did._ You really ought to be thanking me, you know. If it weren't for my decisive actions, Agent Washington wouldn't have survived long enough to make it back to this ship."

"So what?" Carolina snarled, glaring openly at her roommate. "I'm supposed to just roll over and play nice because you _deigned_ not to let him die, when I _know_ you-"

"ENOUGH!" the Director roared at them as he paced furiously up and down the lineup. "I swear up and down, I am but a hairsbreadth from court martialing every last one of you. You will not speak again unless you are spoken to. As I see this, you were all present during this incident, so you are every one of you culpable for what has happened. And _you,_ Agent Maine," he began as he approached Maine in the lineup, "for you, I am long past simple court martial. Even if Agent Washington survives, I do not believe I would be remiss in dismissing you from the project altogether. It was your carelessness that caused this to happen in the first place. If he dies..." Here the Director broke off, almost as if he needed to collect himself. "If he dies, I would be of a mind to call for your _execution._ Do you have _anything_ to say for yourself?"

On some level, Maine was aware the Director was speaking to him. He should answer. He _knew_ he should, but his mind was filled with the sight of Wash's bloodless face, with the sound of his skull _cracking_ as it connected with solid stone. He almost feared that if he spoke, all that would pour out would be an endless litany of just how sorry he was. He knew he could beg for forgiveness for this until the end of time and still not be worthy of it. He had done monstrous things during his time in the galaxy, but it wasn't until this moment that he looked down at his hands and demanded of himself, _What have you done?!_

" _Answer me, Agent Maine!_ " the Director snarled.

"Not for nothing, Sir," Carolina spoke up, risking interjecting on his behalf, "but I think Maine's still in shock. He's close to Wash."

"Shock?" the man repeated derisively in angered disbelief. "What use do I have for a Spartan who can feel _shock?_ What use does _anyone_ have?!" he demanded before throwing his hardest possible punch into Maine's jaw, snapping the supersoldier enough out of his funk to be able to at least look the Director in the eye.

"Well, Matthias-A223?"

The blow was nothing to him, really. Wouldn't even leave a mark in the long run, but it was enough of a distraction from his own inner turmoil to allow him to really _look_ at the man standing before him, who was still panting slightly from the blow he'd dealt. He had no idea why, but the Director wasn't _just_ angry over this. There was something manic beneath the outward fury - something fierce and desperate that Maine knew must be reflected in his own gaze. It was for this reason he knew the man would understand him when he finally offered up his own perspective.

"Sir, I would- not disagree on any particular point," he said gruffly. If Wash died, he would stand before the firing squad himself. He would volunteer to walk aboard a Covenant ship bare-handed and bare-headed and let them tear him apart. He would beg for death on his hands and knees, _anything_ to be punished for what he had done. If Wash died, he would put the bullet through his _own_ brain. "What I've done can never be forgiven. There is no excuse. I offer no defense. Merely the sentiment that my life would only be worth something if it could be given in exchange for his."

Maine didn't know how long he and Director Church stood like that, just staring at each other, but the Spartan knew when he was being assessed, either by an enemy or a commanding officer. He couldn't tell which the Director was in this case, but he knew the man was searching for something inside of him. What that something was and whether or not he found it, Maine couldn't say, but Leonard Church ultimately ended up giving a frustrated sigh as he turned away from him.

"Agent Maine, consider yourself under arrest. You will be confined to your quarters until further notice. Regardless of intent, your actions may have led to the death of a fellow agent, and _must_ be construed as assault."

"Yessir," Maine acknowledged, nodding without argument.

"But Sir-" Carolina tried to step in again.

"That's enough from _you_ , Agent Carolina. As Agent Colorado's second, your own actions during this incident will be called into question during the investigation that will surely follow. As for the rest of you, I will hear your individual reports on the incident later. For now, agents, you are all dismissed."

"Yessir," they all said, snapping briefly to attention before beginning to disperse - all except for Maine.

"Sir...permission to speak candidly?"

The Director turned to glare at him uncertainly out of the corner of his eye for a moment before answering, "Granted."

"Can...can I see him one more time...before I'm confined?"

Again that penetrating stare, almost as if this man who had specifically requested him for his project had never seen him before. "Agent Washington is still in surgery. Likely will be for several hours yet. Even after that, it's unknown how long it will take for him to regain consciousness. You wouldn't be able to speak to him."

"I don't care. I just want to see him. You can restrain me if you want. Just let me see him when he goes into Recovery. _Please,_ " he half-whispered at the last, hesitating for a single frightened heartbeat.

Logically, it couldn't have been more than a minute that he waited for his answer, but to Maine, it felt like an hour. Leaving him to stew, the Director turned away from him before actually responding.

"I will allow it, but you _will_ be restrained, and it will only be for ten minutes after he comes out of surgery. After that, you will be escorted to your quarters under guard."

"Yessir. Thank you, Sir," Maine said, nodding as he turned to go, seeing that only Carolina had hung around to hear this final pronouncement.

"I'll see you down there," she said quietly before heading out. When Maine exited the office just a few minutes behind her, it was to find Kansas waiting for him.

"What do you want, _Thea?_ " he demanded quietly, the emphasis on her false name highlighting the bargain they'd struck back when she'd first joined up with Freelancer.

"What do I _ever_ want, Matthias? To _remind_ you."

"Haven't you done enough?" he snapped as he attempted to move past her, but she would easily shift to block his path no matter which way he tried to go.

"It's _never_ enough. You _know_ that. Maybe you didn't understand what the consequences would be, but this is the price you chose to pay," she snapped back.

Maine regarded her for several moments before quietly asking, "Did you really do this...just for that stupid bet?"

Kansas shook her head, offering up one of her typical wry smirks. "Of course not. Well, not for the money part of it at least."

"What does _that_ mean?"

"It means it was never about _winning_ the bet. I don't doubt the rest of the ship will take intent into account. There's no way the pot will go to me. They'll grant it to Carolina. The point was to _remind you of what you are,_ " she said as she moved right up against him, hissing the last words not an inch from his face. "I understand Washington had been trying to tell you different. Does _he_ know, little Matt? Does lover boy know the _creature_ that lurks just beneath the skin?"

" _No,_ " Maine growled as he shoved her away, moving past her. "And he's never going to. Not after this."

"So if he's never going to see the heart of you, then _you_ had to be reminded how easily it could be drawn out. I couldn't have you thinking you were capable of a thing like _happiness,_ now could I?"

Maine stopped at this, shoulders tensing with the effort of not looking back at her. She was right. He _knew_ she was, but still that little flame that had sparked awake in his heart persisted - a flame that was threaded through with the gold color of Wash's hair and burned at its fiery heart with the blue color of his eyes. Could he really let that go without a fight?

"Maybe...I-"

"For your own good, Matt, I'm going to stop you right there. Yours and Wash's. You've already proven you're not capable of _real love._ What little you _are_ capable of truly caring for your friend...I think you _know_ he deserves better than what you can give him. Wouldn't it be better for him if you stayed away from him? Wouldn't he be so much better off if you weren't around?"

The truth of that was almost too painful to swallow. Not looking at her was the only thing that was keeping him from coming apart entirely as the cracks inside of him splintered further, spidering and feathering outward into increasingly more fragile pieces. Wasn't this real pain? Weren't these real feelings? True caring? Love? Wasn't this _real heartbreak_ he was feeling? How would he know? It had been so long since he'd felt anything but anger. Maybe the full spectrum was beyond his understanding. What he knew to be real was his anger. His anger had hurt Wash, maybe even killed him. That was real - horrifyingly, inescapably real. If _this_ was just a pale facade of what a human heart was capable of feeling, if _this_ was what real love was, he wasn't sure if he wanted any part of it.

Suddenly becoming aware of moisture on his face, the Spartan reached up to swipe at it. It wasn't sweat. The corridor was frigid. Tears?

_Am I...the one...crying?_

"I'm sorry, Matt, but I _had_ to make you understand," she said softly. "Humanity, friendship, love...those things aren't _for_ you. It's better if you give them up. I saved Wash's life for you, and I give it back to you now, but what you do with it from this point is up to you."

That wasn't right, the way she talked about Wash's life like it was something either she or he could possess. It was wrong. So much of what she'd said had been wrong. He knew that, but he couldn't bring himself to correct her before she'd slipped away again. Besides, it didn't really matter anymore. Things were going to change. He wasn't sure how yet, but he would make sure they did. For now, though, he knew he would only have a short time with Wash, so he hurried down to Medical once he'd composed himself.

Carolina, York, Connie and CO were already down there, waiting outside the zero-g operating theatre. CO was back in armor, but the others were all still in their fatigues. They all looked up immediately when they noticed him approaching.

"How is he?" he made himself ask.

"Not good. Dr. Dorokhov's in there with them," CO answered, nodding toward one of the white-suited techs in the theatre. "I've been getting regular updates from her. Several broken bones, depressed skull fracture. All the brain chatter's starting to go over my head, but they're dealing with intracerebral hemorrhage right now. I'd hate to say it, but it looks like the only reason he's not dead yet is because Kansas managed to work up that drain on the pelican. Kept the pressure from building up in his head."

"Maine...I'm sorry. I let it go too far," Connie said as she moved over to him. She looked ready to put a hand on his shoulder, but then seemed to think better of it, whether out of fear or mere uncertainty, he couldn't guess. "I just- I never do very well on these exercises and I got caught up in it. Kansas just said she was going to mess with you a little bit. I never felt good about her idea. I should have stepped in. I'm sorry."

Maine didn't know what to say to this, so he just offered the young woman a mournful look. She looked like she wanted to say more, but she ultimately shook her head, muttered, "I- shouldn't be here," and headed out. Once she'd gone, Maine moved up to the viewing window, looking through the glass that separated him from Wash.

He was secured in a harness so the doctors could shift him as needed, but even in the weightlessness of the zero-g chamber, his body seemed to be deathly still, not even really drifting in the environment. It was disconcerting to see Wash so still, so unmoving, when even in sleep he could never seem to be still. Maine knew they must have sedated him to perform the surgery, but he wasn't sure if he preferred this unnatural stillness or the seizures Wash had been having aboard the pelican.

By typical human standards, Wash was not a small man. As in most things, Maine's perspective was always a little different. Compared with him, Wash was objectively smaller, but he never really seemed that way to Maine, not when he was always moving and always everywhere and always excited, always smiling or laughing. But now...now he appeared so small, engulfed by monitors, machines, doctors, and harnesses as he was. They'd attached saline drips to help control his blood pressure, and Maine found he could hardly see his face for the oxygen mask that covered it.

So small...so helpless...so unlikely to survive...

_You did this! To_ _**him!** _ _Your_ _**partner!** _ _You_ _**monster!** _

Maine felt his heart clench painfully as the fresh wave of guilt seized him. Shuddering faintly, he reached a hand up to rest on the glass, as if he could still touch Wash, as if he could reach across the space between them and pour some of his own strength into his dying partner.

_Wash...David...I'm_ _**so sorry** _ _. I never meant to hurt you. You were right. I should've listened to you before. Now it's too late._

"It's not your fault."

Maine only started minutely upon hearing Carolina's stolid voice directly beside him. When he saw her standing there with a hand resting on his arm, he shook his head sadly.

"You know I'll never believe that. It's like the Director said. My intentions don't matter. If he'd been standing just a few inches closer, he'd be _dead_ right now," Maine snarled as he looked away from her and back into the operating theatre.

"But he's _not_. That blow was meant for Kansas. Since when do you focus on 'what-ifs'?"

"Since it mattered. Since _him,_ " Maine admitted, not looking away from his partner.

"'lina, I- I'm gonna take off. Leave you guys alone. Let me know what happens," York said, firmly gripping her shoulder for a moment before heading away.

"You really care about him," CO said, focus slowly shifting from the zero-g chamber over to Maine and Carolina. "Don't you."

"I don't know," the Spartan answered after a time, still not looking at either of them. "I was raised to fight...to _kill._ What do I know about things like that? I just know I don't want to see him hurt. I want _him_ to be happy. What _I_ feel doesn't matter."

There was a long moment of silence following that declaration, and if Carolina or CO made any sort of exchange, Maine didn't know what it might have been. When the silence was broken this time, it was by Carolina.

"Just for argument's sake, what if what you felt _did_ matter? You know Wash cares about what you want. What _do_ you want?"

Maine had to think about it for a long while before answering. This was a lot more talking than he usually did with anyone apart from Wash, and Wash would get it. He would understand what he was trying to say. But it was harder with the others. He had to find the right way to phrase it.

"Even if I can't be with him, I want to be as close to him as I can be. If he's suffering, I'd gladly take his place. I don't know what that means, not really...but you asked me how I felt. That's all I've got."

"It's enough," Carolina said quietly. "It's _more_ than enough. Don't worry. The Director's just overreacting. He's not being reasonable about this. We'll talk to him. Get him to see sense."

"You don't have to do that. I'm not going to fight him on this one. I don't think he's being hard enough," he said, finally looking over at her again.

"Putting you under house arrest wasn't hard enough?" the redhead asked with a raised eyebrow.

"No. If Wash really doesn't make it, I think the Director _will_ call for my execution. But you and I both know the UNSC won't kill me. I'm a Spartan - a piece of ONI property. Expensive to make and _too_ expensive to replace. I'm too valuable to them to kill while I'm still of use. If it- comes to it...I want _you_ to kill me," he said firmly, looking her right in the eye, and even _he_ could see the slow build of shock in those eyes.

"Maine..."

"Don't argue with me, Carolina," he growled, swallowing hard on his next words. "If Wash dies...if he dies, it means I killed him, and I can't live with that."

"Maine, you can't ask me to-"

"Wouldn't you kill the man who killed your brother?" he demanded of her, and she stood glaring at him for several more minutes before finally snarling and nodding.

"All right. Fine. I'll make you that promise, but only because I _know_ Wash is going to pull through. Then we can all laugh at how worried you were over nothing," she finished, the glare slipping into a pained smile.

This wasn't nothing. They all knew it, but they had to cope with it somehow. A young man they all three cherished in their own way was fighting for his life not ten feet from them, and there was nothing they could do to help him, so they coped.

They coped and they waited, silently praying for David to come back to them.


End file.
